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■ • 



PROSPECT 



OF 



P O E T R Y, 

WITH OTHER POEMS, 



BY THE 



REV.- JAMES BEEtAGOim* 



H 



e « 3 t » • » o « EXTINCTUS AMABITUR IDEM. 



ft CORK.- 

o 

PRINTED BY JOHN HARRIS, CASTLE-STREET, 



X307« 



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PKOSHECT OF FOETKY. 



y 

TO THE 

EARL OF CORKE AND ORRERY, 



TO THE fS&/$^$& 



W HAT various ftyles to diiPrent (trains belongs 
What time to rife or when to fink in fong ; 
To thee, belt judge of this refin'd delight, 
O ! born to genius, lo ! the mufes write ; 
? Tis yours, my Lord, to bid each art excel, 
And fmile on merit which you grace fo well; 
To make mankind a nobler Broghill fee, 
And find their long-loft Halifax in thee : 
Few now remain to fay who fung before, 

Parnel is dead and Addifon no more ! 

The few remaining time will fweep away, 
And Pope and Swift muft fhortly follow Gay ; 
Thefe only left of all the tuneful quire, 
Garth, Steele, Rowe, Congreve, Wycherly and Prior; 
B Thefe 



& A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Thefe only left, the world's great lofs declare, 

And ferve to fhew us what thefe wonders were- 

To you, my Lord, the mufes turn their eyes, 

On Orrery the lettered world relies; 

Their antient honours let a Boyle reftore, 

And be whate'er was Orrery before: 

O ! chief in courts to lay the peer afide, • 

Weed vice from dignity, from titles pride, 

Great without grandeur, generous without views^ 

For ever bounteous and yet ne'er profufe: 

No lefs by nature noble than by name, 

The bloom of breeding and the fiow*r of fame : 

Approv'd a patron at thy natal hour; 

Think'ft thou to 'fcape the praifes in their pow'r? 

Tho' from Britannia's drains and Albion's fhore, 

You flee to deferts* but to blaze the more; 

They'll fearch y<6u out, difcover where you mine, 

Publifh your worth, and frustrate your defign. 

So in the gloom the diamond darts its light, 
Tho' thick eneircl'd with furrounding night; 
The kindling darknefs breaks before the ray, 
And on the eye-ball burfts the brilliant day. 

Sage Temple writes a fpark of native fire, 
Excels whatever learning can acquire ;t 
In poetry this observation's true, 
Without feme genius fame will ne'er enfue; 



Such 



* His Lcrdihip coming into Ireland. 
-J- Sir William Temple, 



A PROSPECT Ot POETRY. 

Obferve how Sappho paints the lover's pain,* 
What various paffions animate her drain! 
Her colour fades, fhe faints in tender lays, 
Her pulfe beats languid and her fenfe decays; 
Then in a rapid tide of paffions toft, 
Her weak tongue faulters and her voice is loft ; 
Again her foul revives, her breath returns, 
Again fhe fhivers, and again fhe burns : 
Each reader's bofom feels her various care, 
Warm/d by her flame or chill'd by her defpair. 

Toft as the fea, bj paffions let the foul, 
Like the ba-ine fparkle, like the billows roll; 
Then anger kindles in the warriors eyes, 
AikI earth ufurps the thunder of the ikies ; 
See how they mount upon the groaning car, 
Shake the long fence and o'ertake the war; 
Aloft in air refounds the whirling thong, 
The horfes fly, the chariot fmokes along; 
The foaming courfers prefs upon their heels, 
Back run the lines beneath the whirling wheels; 
Fleeter than light they flam along the fields, * 
And funs by thoufands blaze upon their fhields; 
The twifted ferpents round their helmets roll'd, 
Muft hifs in verfe and bite in burnifh'd gold: 



The 



* This lady, more remarkable for wit than beauty, was miftrefs 
to Alcaeus, yet fo cruel to her lover, that one day upon bis laying 
he had fomething to fay to her, but was afhamed to fpeak it, fhe 
replied, that if it was fit for her to hear he would not be fo tedious 
about it; they both flourished about the 44th Olympiad. 

Mr. StanyarTs Hilt or v of Greece, 



$ > A PR.OSPECT OF POETRY* 

The war breads in — now millions are no more* 
And a long groan pnrfues the gufhing gore J 
Spears, clai^aml jav'lins launch along the fky,. 
Plunge into blood, or into fhivers fly : 
Thus let your heroes rage, by Mars poffeft, 
And feel an Iliad riling in thy breaft ; 
But foon cement thofe wounds, let difcord eeafe* 
And warring worlds unite in friendly peace. 

Hence founds in fofter notes muft learn to move> 
And melting mulic rife the voice of love! 
Let Tubal' s lute in fkilful hands appear, 
And pour new numbers on the lift'ning ear; 
With the full organ let them fweetly fwell, 
With the loud jtrumpet languifhingly fhrill: 
Or in foft concord let the concert fuit, 
The fprightly clarion with the Dorian flute: 
Then wake to vocal airs the warbling wire, 
Let the firings run beneath the poet's fire; 
While forrow fighs, ah ! never let them cool, 
But melt melodious On the foften'd foul/ 
So may the paffions wait upon your hand," 
Move as you move, and aft as you command. 

And here Arion's harp may fwell the ftrain, 
Or frnooth your numbers as it fmooth'd the main; 
When wond'ring firens to its founds advanc'd, 
And bounding dolphins o'er the billows danc'd; 
Admiring Tritons round the mufic play, 
And angry feas in mcifure roll away: 

A tide 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY, 

A tide of rapture rofe as he required, 
White work'd the waves and £oam ? d as lie irifpir^dj 
The billows beat upon the founding ftring, 
And thro* the hollow harp the waters ring. 

As on a moon-light night when Neptune calls, 
His finny courfers from their coral ftalls ; 
From fome white clift whofe brow reflects the deep* 
He leads them forth and bids the billows fleep ; 
The waves obey; fo ftill a filence reigns, 
That not a wrinkle curls the wat'ry plains; 
Like floating Mercury the waves appear, 
And the fea whitens with a heav'n fo clears 
Before him Triton blows his twifl'd fliell, 
And diftant fea-nymphs know the fignal well 5 
In long proceffion the Csrulean train, 
With joy confefs the fov'reign of the main* 
Such were the raptures of the fea-green race,. 
When fweet Arion crofs'd the wat ? ry fpace^ 
When firft his fingers felt the rnufic rife, 
And mix'd in melody the feas and ikies. 

On land Amphion fwells the magic fong, 
And round his fingers moving mountains throngs 
At ev'ry ftroke he fees fair Thebes afpire, 
Walls rife on walls and temples fearing higher t 
At ev'ry ftroke new wonders deck the flrain, 
The big creation of a poet's brain ! 

Hear how Timotheus wraps .the foul in founds, 
And drops the notes like balm upon her wpuads; 

C Ti 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY; 

The moulded meafures querulous decay, 

*Tiil a fwift tremor fweeps the founds away; 

By fweet degrees again they gather near, 

Recover fail and thunder on the ear; 

Down the broad brafs his bold hands bruih the tones* 

The long firing leaps and vibrates into groans; 

Let furious Saul be figur'd to thy mind, s 

So mad — as not to be by verfe confin'd; 

With muiic arm'd the fweet mufician ftands, 

And o'er the golden cordage fpreads his hands; 

The monarch's looks are fix'd upon the firings, 

And his eyes languifh as young David fings; 

His fury falls as that begins to rife, 

And all his foul feems ftarting from his eyes ! 

But chief the mufic of the fpheres muft pleafe, 

If founds celeltial warble in thy lays; 

When the three Parcse, fate's fair offspring born*, 

The world's great fpindle at its axle turn ; 

Round which eight fpheres in beauteous order run, 

And as they turn revolving time is fpun; 

Whofe motions all things upon earth ordain, 

Whence revolutions date their fickle reign; 

Thefe rob'd in white at equal diflance thron'd, 

Sit o'er the fpheres and twirl the fpindle round, 

On each of which a Siren loudly fings, 

As from the wheel the fatal trhead fhe flings ; 

The Parcse anfwer, in the quire agree, 

And all thofe voices make one harmony.* 

To 



* This is an excellent allegory of Plato's, who would hereby 
intimate that all things obey the divine law, and concur to pro- 
duce thofe effects which are conferences of the caufes God ha» 
ciUblifiied. 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY. PI 

To Titian turn, to Raphael praifes give, 
Hence picture rofe and fhadows feem to live 5 
On Guido look, to Rubens rear thine eye, 
Where each bold figure feems a ftander by; 
Trophies and triumphs by Mantegna's hand* 
In martial v order on the canvas ftand; 
With hints of glory fire the warlike foul, 
And bid like motions in our bofoms roll; v 
Here Verrio's colours glow expos'd to fight, 
And fky-dipt pencils liream with liquid light ; 
Thy art, O Kneller! afks a filler's praife, 
So may thy paintings beautify my lays; 
Whether young blufhes ripen in thy lines, 
Or verdant landfkips wave in green defigns, 
Thro' which the fun emerging from the maia^ 
In floods of purple drowns the leafy fcene; 
A mimic vifto ftretches wide between, 
Where gold appears diverfify'd with green; 
Shades rife on fhades, on colours colours flow, 
And tranfient fhadows undulate below. 

So when Aurora mounts the rofy.eaPc, 
And light's warm blufhes redden o'er her breaftj 
A thoufand funs her orient rays unfold, 
And ev'ry leaf is fprinkl'd o'er with gold; 
The glitt'ring fpangles burn the woodland fliade, 
Tree, ftream and bufh in nature's gold array'd : 

C 2' The 



* Andrea Mantegna, born at Padua, anno. 14 Ji, was admi- 
rable for Hiflory-painting and Perfpe&ive: thebefl of his pieces 
are the triumphs of Julius C^far now at Hampton-Court, 



$9 A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

The biirnifh'd rills in fofter filver fhow, 
And dauVd with purple glance their waves below£ 
Ten thoufand fhadows ikim the coloured ftream, 
And o'er the filver fhoots the crimfon gleam. 

Next let Prometheus boaft his godlike art, 
And let a wonder from his fingers ftart; 
An angel form! by ev'ry poet Tung, 
Love in her looks and mufic in her tongue. # 

So when the fun with all enlivening ray, 
On Memnon's lips firft ftrikes the golden days 
The hard flint utters melancholy founds, 
And from the ftone fweet harmony rebounds.i 

Before Lycippus' eourfer neighs the fteed, 
And fond Pygmalion clafps his iv'ry maid; 
Where Niobe, in beauteous forrow mown, 
Melts into tears and hardens into ftone : 
Befide his duffel let mount Athos Hand,* 
Heave into form and groan beneath his handj 



While 



* I mull heg leave here to diffent from the general opinion of 
commentators, that it was a man Prometheus formed, for it was 
undoubtedly a woman, in order to propagate his fpecies for the 

future in a natural Way. 

f The fbtue of Memnon, fon of Aurora, according to Hero* 
dotus, was made of ftone and not of brafs. 

i It was propofed to Alexander the Great to turn mount Athos 
into a ftatue of this monarch, with the ocean, in a bafon in one 
fcand> and a large city in the other. 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY. i$ 

While on one fpacious palm he pours the fea, 
And his broad fingers form an ample bay ; 
The other grafps a wide extended town, 
Whofe regal walls un-number'd turrets crown? 
Thus was the fon of earth fuppos'd to rife, 
O'er-look the globe, and climb into the ikies, • 
To fcare the gods with his enormous height, 
A fecond Titan foaring out of fight! 

So near proud Rhodes, acrofs the founding main* 
The world's juft wonder brav'd the winds and rain, 
While round his head the rattling tempefts blow, 
And wat'ry mountains break in foam below; 
On Neptune's back the round CoiolTus rides, 
Deaf to the roarings of the wind and tides. 

There Phidias bids the breathing ftatue movej 
In living fculpture not unworthy Jove ; 
From age to age Cleomenes mall charm, 
And his carv'd Venus future warriors warm,* 
In fair proportion from beholders turn, 
And o'er her cheek the blufhing marble burn* 

See with Silenus youthful Bacchus vie, 
And the flint fparkling in his jovial eye ; 
Round his full temples grapes luxuriant fpread, 
Vine-leaves and chillers dangle o'er his head: 
On a tame tiger, taught his load to bear, 
He rides in rock and makes his ivy fpear. 

There 



* The Yen-as of Medicis, 



M A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

There good Aurelius almqft looks a groan ! 
And thunderbolts defcend in figur'd ftone;* 
Great Alexander^ weeps his enfigns furFd, 
And bids his lire create another world. 

Here let thy graver thro' rock diamond run,+ 
The heav'n-hued fapphire fparkle in the funj 
The wounded ruby ope its bleeding vein, 
And the red ftreams the virgin paper flain ; 
Here link your jewels in a blazing firing, 
Let the green em'rald look like fmiling fpring, 
The yellow topaz boafi a golden hue, 
And flipp'ry agate mine in veins of blue; 
Let thefo in chryftal cafkets charm the fight* 
Terreftrial ftars and children of the h>ht! 

o 

Like the rich bow athwart th' setherial plain, 
That burns in fhow'rs and fire imbibes from rain. 

Now let your mufe to architecture change, 
Plunge in the bath or thro' the palace range, 
Heave the huge mole or bid the column rife, 
Or point the obelifk to pierce the fkies: 

Palladio 



* This curious piece of fculpture is on the pillar of the Em- 
peror Antonine, one of the nobleft defigns in the world: it is the 
figure of Jupiter Pluvius raining on the fainting army of Marcus 
Aurelius and thundering en that of his enemies: it was on this 
occafion that the Chriftian religion got the name of Fulminatriz. 

f Thefe lines are to he understood of antiques, arms and cy- 
phers cut in precious Hones; Pyrgoteles a famous fculptor hardly, 
graved on any thing elfe but jewels. 



'A PROSPECT OF POETRY* Ig 

Palladio here mufl think in ev'ry line, 
And deep Vitruvius feari the whole defign; 
The works of Solomon and him of Tyre,* 
Dire& the plan and all your talle infpire: 
In due proportion ev'ry pillar rear, 
Nor let the orders be confounded there ; 
Where the Corinthian {lands in flut'd rows, 
Let not the martial Doric interpofe ; 
Nor where the Tufcan lifts th' imperial urn,f 
SufFer the next Ionic maft to turn ;j 
But chief that chaos called Compofite fhun, 
Which begs from all and yet belongs to none* 

So BabePs battlements began to rife, 
Left earth below and labcur'd up the ikies; 
The mighty bulwark threaten* d heav'n's abode, 
And bid the mounting world afcend to God : 
And they had now been there — -but heav'n look'd down, 
Their fkiiPs confounded and their tow'r o'erthrown ; 
Tongues, pillars, orders to confuiion turn, 
And difappointed mankind feern'd to mourn. 

Here 



* Hiram. 

f Trajan's pillar at Rome was tlie firfl of this order, the fpire 
of which was appointed for the Emperor's allies ; on this occafion 
the Romans difdaining to borrow from the Grecians invented 
one of their own, from thence called the Tufcan or Roman order, 
Evelin of Achi. 

$ The famous Temple of Diana, at Ephefus, which took ug 
ZOO years in building, was of this order. Vid. Palladio, 



-« A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Here Egypt's pyramids muft heave fublime* 
And blunt the teeth of all decaying time; 
Beneath whofe weight the burden'd earth muft groan^ 
A ponderous pile of monumental ftone : 
Strong bars of adamant the marble lock, 
And links of iron chain the folid rock ; 
Beneath whofe fummit tow'ring eagles fly, 
A pointed mountain ending in the fky. 

Proud Babylon with brazen gates behold, 
And proud Euphrates in her bofom roll'd; 
Walls which Semiramis with turrets crowned, 
And coloured brick with black bitumen bound £ 
A fecond Eden here Nitrocris trod, 
In penfile gardens worthy of a God ; 
So grand the coftly ftructure hung in air, 
It feem'd not built, but firft created there: 
Here trees and flow'rs in wat'ry figures rife, 
And fruitage ripen nearer to the ikies ; 
Fair fountains fall in filver ftreaming floods, 
And artificial rainbows paint the clouds; 
With various-colour'd light the water burn'd, 
Againft the fun in artful arches turned; 
Nor were the golden pipes by Sirius dry'd, 
The river ftill the water-works fupply'd. 

Here let the boafter fall from man to beaft. 
Eat grafs with brutes cr on rude acorns feaft, 
Driv'n from his throne in dens to pafs the day, 
To herd with wolves and howl the night away. 

Sat 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY. &7 

So wild Lycaon fled his own abode, # 
Chang'd by the vengeance of an angry God, 
On ihaggy feet ran howling thro' the plain. 
And mingl'd nightly with the prowling train. 

Here let the mufe awhile delighted red:, 
Pleas'd with the profpec~l op'ning in her breaft, 
The wide horizon and the world furvey. 
As thro' the walks her fancy loyes to ftray* 

Invention! ah how beautiful art thou] 
I feel thy fudden inspiration 'now ; 
Thy whifpers prompt me, and the plea-fing flrife, 
Of infant thought juft Urug'Iing into life; 
The new-born offspring longs to try its feet, 
And run thro' verfe with voluntary heat; 
This was the nymph that did wife Numa pleafe,t 
And this the genius of great Socrates. 

Like fome fmooth mirror fee Euphrates glide, 
Thro' Duras' plains and fpread his bofom wide$ 
On whofe broad furface wat'ry landfkips lie, 
And bending willows (hade the downward fky; 

D There 



* The flory of Lycaon may pofiibly be taken from Nebuchad* 
nezzar, for priding himfelf in the grandeur of thofe. gardens which 
he caufed to be built for his Queen, who loved the profpe&s of 
Media, he was in the fame place and moment changed into a 
wild beaft. 

f iEgeria. 



13 A PROSPECT OF POETRY, 

There floating forefts mixt with meadows move, 

And the green glafs reflects the flow'rs above ; 

Shepherds and fheep along the picture ftray, 

And with the water feem to Aide away j 

In the blue gleam the park and walls appear, 

And gilded barges mixt with grazing deer; 

The huntiman founds — the frighted fhadow flies, 

Thro* flocks, greens, fhepherds, barges, hounds and flues* 

Thus in a room where light can only pafs, 
Thro' the fmall circle of a convex glafs; 
O'er the ftain'd (beet amnfing fhadows flide> 
Clouds float in air and fliips along the tide: 
In rural pofture fields and oxen (how, 
Trees wave, ftreams run, and coloured bloflbms glow. 

>Tis thus when fpring's foft vernal blooms appear, 
And throw a glory round a youthful year; 
Or fummer blazing o'er the heav'nly blue, 
When fwarming infecls dip their wings in dew: 
In autumn too the fame mild fcene delights, 
To view the water and enjoy the nights; 
Nor lefs loud winter wilder blifs denies, 
When Boreas bids the broad Euphrates rife ; 
Then peaceful images amufe no more, 
But thro' the bridge the founding furges roar, 
Wide darning, foaming high, and tumbling to the fhore. 
The diftant billow feems the heav'ns to lave, 
And the horizon ftoops to drink the wave. 



j 



So 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 19 

So the loud Euxine, whofe compulfive fway, 
' Ne'er yet knew ebb or fwift reflux of fea, 
Rolls on eternal and direclly beats, 
Againil black Bofphorus' tempelluous freights; 
The Dardanelles behold its low'ring front, 
Gloom the Propontis and the Hellefpont. 

Now fwell your flyle and let the flood conform, 
To the rous'd tempeft and the roaring ftorm; 
In verfe as rough let ev'ry torrent move, 
Froth the vext waves and curl their heads above ; 
Let the green tide turn white with abrupt (hock, 
And break the fait furge on the rugged rock : 
Not fo where mazy rills meandering mine, 
The running filver trickles thro' the line ; 
In fmoother notes the whifp'ring waters purl, 
The brook falls tuneful and the waves uncurl ; 
Hence images of different kinds abound, 
In all the volubility of found, 
Apply'd to fubjedts correfponding flow, 
Some loudly rough and others fweetiy low. 
Hence various ftyles appear in war and peace, 
And ev'ry flyle has its peculiar grace; 
In ep-cs here a hero flrides away, 
And there Amintor tunes his .oaten lay ; 
While o'er the lawn the lambkins frifk along, 
And with their bleatings fill the rural fong; 
Or when flill ev'ning reddens o'er the Iky, 
It bids her blufhes round the welkin fly; 
In each foft cloud forne colour is expreft, 
' Till with united glories burns the weft: 

D 2 Then 



20 A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Then fvvarm the flies, the tinfel'd people run*. 

To bid adieu to the departing fun; 

With airy mufic Tip the milky fteams, 

And gild their coats in light's declining beams | 

Add that at eve cool Zephyr wakes the breeze* 

And fits in fighs upon the fhiv'ring trees; 

Add that at eve Etefian breezes wake, 

With coming gales the leaves are feen to make, 

Still trembling onward with th' approaching blaft, 

*Till on the dimply pool it breathes at laft, 

Before the wind the water curls in rings, 

And the fann'd ocean frowns beneath his wings : 

Hence Lyrics make the fields and fwains rejoice, 

Or elegy lifts up her mournful voice ; 

The bufkin'd hero treads the crowded flage,. 

Or ccmic humour fmiles along the page ; 

There Athens friend, Themiflocles, appears,* 

And Cat o glorious in his country's tears; 

Thy lips Timoleon feal thy brother's doom, 

And Brutus bleeds in both his fons for Rome; 

Varanes there admires the bloody fign 

Hung o'er the head of kneeling Conftantine ; 

On Cannae's field fee Paulus bath'd in gore,t 

And Csefar pafs the Rubicon once more* 

Thus 



* Themiflocles a-utem quern virtus fua vi&orem, injuria patriae 
-mperatorem Perfarum fecerat; ut fe ab ea oppugnanda abftine- 
ret, inftituto facrificio, exceptum patera, tauri fanguinem haufit, 
& ante ipfam aram quafi qusedam pietatis clara vi&ima concidiu 
Valcr. Max. de pietate erga patriam. 

f Paulus Ernilius. 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY, SI 

Thus he to whom the tuneful charms belong, 
Of facred numbers and harmonious fong ; 
Whom Paean's art did at his birth infpire, 
With a fweet finger for the mufes lyre ; 
To whom the gift of genius fate had giv'n ? 
That golden blefling of indulgent heav'n! 
Muft ftudy mufic to improve his art, 
And thro* the ear find entrance to the heart % 
While art and nature equally unite, 
Sound fmooth the fenfe, and grace make wit polite; 
His eafy lines unlabour'd feem to flow, 
Yet fuch that eafe as pains alone bellow : 
While the fond reader charm' d with ev'ry Arain 5 
Snatches a quill to imitate in vain. 

Next it were fit that picture claimed his care ? 
A well bred man mould every fcience {hare: 
From hence what beauties may not poets take? 
Hence learn in verfe to paint the rat'ling fnake; 
Thro' the gilt page-he twifts in coloured linjgt>* 
And round the leaf in curling volumes twiftes; 
The reader thinks he fees the ferpent Hide, 
And almoft feels him thro' his fingers glide. 

Let Helen's beauty kindle fweet defire, 
In Zeuxis' colours and with Homer's fire;* 

Compare 

* Zeuxis from the choice of five naked virgins drew that wobn 

• derful picture of Helen, which Cicero, in his book De Oratorc, 

fets hefcre us as the moil perfect example of beauty ; and Julio* 

Romano formed his tafte and completed his Guflo by reading 

Homer, 



22 A PROSPECT OF POET k?, 

Compare them both and mifs no fingle charm> 
But let each blufh with equal fpirit warm; 
The fine complexion let the graces fpread, 
And Paeftan rofes paint her cheeks with red; 
While Venus bids her airs around her play, 
And Fhcehus fills her eyes with tender day. 

But Thornhill's draughts fliall future hints fu'pply, 
As long as Kenfington with Greenwich vie;* 
Where round her roof a thoufand colours glow, 
And Britain's rivers round the ceiling flow. 
Here bold description with her pencil ilands, 
To roll the billows over mining fands ; 
Strong on the eye th 5 inverted figures fall, 
And the rich cornice fets on fire the wall : 
Thame on his anchor here fupperts his head, 
And H umber heavy with his pigs of lead; 
While Avon's waters into Severn roll, 
And the Tine tumbles out her mines of coal; 
There in green gold the Medway feems to burn* 
And pour down fimes from her foaming urn; 
While filver Ifis joins her hufoand Thame, 
And in each other loofe their ancient name. 

In fculpture too proportion learns to pleafe, 
When ev'ry beauty fwells by nice degrees; 
Where by the chhTel's meant the poets pen, 
That files and polifhes the works of men; 

Softens 



»• See this famous Ceiling in the great Hall of Greenwich 
Hofpital, painted by Sir James ThornhiiL 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY* S3 

Softens the rugged furface of the fong, 
Yet turns the features regular and ilrong; 
Commands the limbs in attitude to rife, 
And live and walk before the reader's eyes. 

Beneath her palm hence fan-burnt Egypt's ft 
The rousfh'n'd fret-work fuits the matron's main: 
In molten ore Minerva lends her aid, 
And lifts to life the rude unlettered maid; 
Rais'd by her hand Nile's daughter quits the ground, 
Hardens her mummies, hears her cyitrum found, 
Tow'rs like her pyramids fublimely bold, 
And almoft rifes half her height in gold. 

So the flack rope the dext'rous dancer trks^ 
Poiz'd on a pole betwixt air, earth and Ikies, 
Walks o'er the waves of heads that roll below, 
His limbs look fupple and his fteps tread flow: 
Beneath his foot the fturdy cable bends, 
Mounts as he moves and drops as he defcends: 
Back Hart the crowd— he, glorying in his ftrength, 
Springs on his feet and rifes half his length. 

By architecture laft he lays the fcheme,* 
And by forne model bids his genius flame : 
Works up the whole and fees the building fiiine, 
In all its parts with conduct and defign : 

The 



* Palladio lays down but five orders of architecture, and Lon- 
£mu£ but five fountains for the fublixnc. 



24 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY, 



The poem rais'd upon fo fine a plan, 
The teft, the wonder, and delight of man, 
Will Hand the fhocks and injuries of time, 
Built upon nature and the true fublime. 

Thus life-refembling allegory lies, 
Behind a veil remote from vulgar eyes : 
Tranfparent veil i in hieroglyphicks wrought, 
Which only covers not obfcures the thought ; 
Where filver urns exprefs the figur'd flood, 
And more is meant than firft is underftood, 
Old age and time in hoary forms appear, 
And proper emblems reprefent the year ; 
There oft blue Neptune for the fea is feen, 
And rivers rifing from their beds in green; 
In golden lines th' autumnal feafon glows, 
And winter thro' a bluft'ring period blows. 
Here brother-twins unbar rude fancy's gate, 
Drefs her wild dreams ! and on the goddefs wait, 
Romantic dreams ! from fuperftition fprung, 
Which Arifto taught and Spencer fung. 
Then ev'ry grotto in its genius fpoke, 
And Hamadryads from each hollow oak; 
Ev'n Eccho learn'd to anfwer to her name, 
And babbl'd louder than the babbling ftream. 

Now when fome rival poem you perufe, 
O let not envy blind the partial mufe ! 
Where merit is efteem it as your own, 
And in its triumph let your light be mown; 



Let 



A PROSPECT OF POETR.Y. M 

L«t Albiofi afk from whence an author came, 
And judge according to the writer's name ; 
Scotch, Englifh, Irifh, be alike to you, 
And gladly give an infidel his due : 
Scorn that mean artifice of unjuft praife, 
Nor think to flatter is to gain the bays ; 
Thefe two extremes the worthy well defpife* 
Who hate with reafon and with reafon prize. 

And yet to malice fure I a'm much oblig'd, 
On ev'ry fide by calumny befieg'd, 
To critics much I owe who make me mend, 
And envy I cou'd almoll call my friend: 
Thefe taught my youthful fteps an early care, 
To thread with caution and proceed with fear^ 
Oft in my mind their black afperfions came, 
And made me tremble at the love of fame; 
Ev'n now I dread their jealoufy and fpite, 
And faint in fancy ev'ry line I write. 

How long before the mufes can fucceed 5 
To pleafe the world is now a tafk indeed ! 
All former methods vainly we purfue, 
The world is old and calls for fomething new* 
Nothing will take with thiJ judicious age> 
But lines well-labour' d and a ftudi'd page ; 
Where rich variety relieves the mind, 
And beams of fancy ftrike the critic blind; 
Exalted notions which great fouls contain, 
Thoughts big with life and burfting from the brain ; 

E Siirprifing 



m A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Surprising novelties that never tire, 
But lead the reader on from fire to fire. 

Avoid the harfhnefs of difcordant chime, 
Senfe ill atones for violated rhime; 
RR's jar untuneful o'er the quiv'ring tongue, 
And ferpent S with hilling fpoils the fong: 
When triplets like the furies join their hands, «j 

Unlock their folds and break their lawlefs bands; C 
Elfe Cerb'rus like the threefold monfter Hands. J 

5 Tis true a triplet might fucceed by chance, 
And even twelve feet judicioufly advance; 
But thofe experiments are fatal found, 
And feldom us'd but when we call for found;* 
AH Alexandrines from the page expunge, 
That o'er the paper take a long unwieldy lounge. 

Compounded epithets had need be few, 
But thofe familiar and uncommon too; 
Some oft like Janus wear a double face, 
A mongrel-mixture and a motley race ; 
With thofe the mountains rauft be always bleak, 
And no kind northwind ftir the fleeping lake ; 
But ever fanning breezes cool the morn, 
And funs red-rifmg the gray dawn adorn. 

Others 



* For inilance in Mr. Pope's Homer, where the blood is made 
to trickle down the leg, through the length of an Alexandrian 
verfe. 

" And down his fnowy thigh diftilFd the ilreaming flood." 

Pope's Homerv 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 27' 

Others to wild defcription turn their ftyle, 
Make ftorms blow gently and black whirlwinds foule ; 
From each dark point the featuring clouds difperfe, 
And gleams of golden fun-fhine gild the verfe: 
Without Appollo's necefTary aid, 
What is defcription? an eternal made. 
Weak eyes and judgments glaring objefts ftrike; 
Both are but dazzl'd and deceiv'd alike. 

But above all avoid that firen fea, 
Where men of wit are often call away ; 
A tempting vice long mention'd in the fchools, 
The pride of coxcombs and the food of fools: 
Here vanity holds forth her flatt'ring giafs. 
And felf-conceit adores her fwelling face; 
Where rival worth in vain pretends to vie, 
And ev'ry virtue lefTens in her eye, 
With their own lightnings oft the fair (he warms, 
And melts the heart of beauty by its charms; 
The dart directed at the man of wit, 
Flies wing'd with quills with which his genius writ; 
The fliaft that's pointed at the breaft of beaux, 
Is fledg'd with feathers or brocaded clothes; 
And ftatefmen who, like me, are leaft afraid, 
Are caught in nets which they themfelves have laid. 

To charge with gen'rous thoughts the cleared head, 
Confult the living and read o'er the dead; 
Where ancient wifdom grows more wife with age, 
And hoary feniors dignify the page ; 

E z Time's 



38 ■ A PROSPECT OF POETRY, 

Time's eldeft born! fires gray to us in fame! 
The ancient's glory but the modern's (hame*. 
Supreme of thofe infpir'd Plato fee, 
A name rever'd by all antiquity: 
Pride of his feci: and honour of his kind, 
A worthy heathen with a chriftian mind; 
Whofe flyle and manner moderns like fo well, 
That he alone Delany* cou'd excel. 

In thofe fam'd days of literature and tafte, 
Liv'd Porphry's tutor and Zenobia's gueft! 
Aurelian's dread! endow'd with ev'ry art, 
In which the two Minerva's claim a part; 
Whofe character furvives in the fublime, 
As the beft judge and critic of his time*-r 

How courtier like gay Horace ridicules,. 
While he refines on Ariftotle's rules; 
By Pindar taught to tune th' Aufonian lyre,. 
With Grecian elegance and Roman fire: 
In him Alcseus thunders once again, 
Temper'd by Sappho's more harmonious ftrain^ 
While in thick fits her fofter lightnings play, 
Flam thro' the lines arud doubly gild the day. 

Read Cicero; confider Plutarch well, J 
What man he was let Chaeronea tell : 



la 



* The greateft of Divines. — See his Revelation examined with 
ca^donr, and the life of King David. 

f Longinus. J Plutarch, of reading the poets*. 



A PROSPECT OF POETRtf. 29 

In Arne long this patriot pafs'd his days, 
Nor could boation climes obfcure his praife ; 
To him the nobleft heroes lives were known, 
Who ftudi'd others to improve his own. 

The Mantuan fwan on Mincio's margin fings. 
Or o'er Cremona claps his mourning wings, 
To Tyber's banks and folitudes retires, 
And mid his poplars feels poetic fires: 
Courts the cool ofier's green refrefhing bed, 
Or thro* the willows (hows his filver head; 
Or fails with tranfport down the tuneful tide, 
Sweet-warbling Vida fwimming by his fide: 
At Naples too they tell thofe birds are feen, 
To keep together on the haunted green ; 
Brundufium oft with fudden fong furprife, 
And warble as they journey thro' the ikies; 
To mild Parthenope's delightful more, 
And lands belov'd by Virgil long before. 

See heav'n defcend in Homer's awful lines, 
Where all the god and all the hero mines; 
Behind Achilles lags devouring death, 
And the lines run the reader out of breath* 
Thunders and lightnings blaze before his eyes, 
Blue ftreams the fulphur from poetic fides! 
Line after line the flood of light rolls on, 
Foams to a fire, and brightens to a fun! 



Thefe are the oracles of learning now, 
Confult thefe books, and to thofe Sibyls bow j 



Thefe 



SO A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Thefe are the lights that call good actions forth* 
Revive their value and emblaze their worth ; 
By thofe great fouls fhall Regulus be tri'd, 
And the brave Decii who for freedom di'd. 

And is there not with whom you may advife? 
A friend to relifh and to criticife ; 
One who has prov'd how hard it is to pleafe, 
Not hril to blame nor yet the laft to praife; 
With whofe good fenfe an author might be free, 
And whofe good nature ne'er was flatt'ry : 
When fuch the character, and fuch that mines, 
The name of Lawfon* need not end thofe lines j. 
Such late was Parnel — oh! too flightly mourn'd, 
With ev'ry grace, with ev'ry mufe adorn'd! 
By Swift belov'd, by Pope lamented moft, 
Loft to the world — to wit and friendfhip loft- 
Yet mall he live while tafte is kept alive, 
And his lov'd Plato in his verfe revive; 
Yet fhall he live as long as truth fhall charm 
In myftick fable, or fair virtue warm ; 
The firft remember' d in our weak efTays, 
With honour mention'd, dignifi'd with praife. 

Nor let proud Albion thus her neighbours fcorn* 
As if her fons alone were poets born; 
We too may boaft ourfelves the fons of fame, 
Nor are we foreign to that facred name: 

Juverna's 



* Doctor John Lawfon. — See his chara#er by Mr. Boyn, ia 
his tranflation of Taflb's Jerufalem. 



A PROSPECT CF POETRY. SI 

Juverna's genius yet fliall wear the bay, 
And drink as deep of Helicon as they; 
In fpite of all our hopeful foes abroad, 
Prevail at lad and foar into a god ; 
The Dunciad comes, fure omen of their fate* 
And Ireland yet may be the mufes feat. 

O! cou'd I live to fee my country mine* 
Our fable clifts invite the tuneful nine; 
Thofe barren rocks with bays immortal fmile, 
And Phoebus blefs his once-beloved iile : 
O ! gladly then with life itfelf I'd part, 
My country's glories throbbing at my heart ! 

What's to be done in this auguh: affair * 
Firft let us banifh all our foreign ware ; 
Our foolifh fondnefs for Italian lays, 
And look at home for bards and better days ; 
Rofcommon, Parnel — >both alas are loft ! 
And few, indeed, the prefent times can boaft: 
Yet let thofe few be valued as they fhou'd, 
Here fhew your tafte and judgment to be good; 
Judgment! that touch -Hone that directs our thoughts, 
That (hews us all our "beauties with our faults ; 
Sound judgment will direcl; us what to do, 
And how to think of men and manners too ; 
Wit join' d with judgment gilds good fenfe with light, 
As diamond folid, and as diamond bright ! 



Thus far a youthful mufe prefum'd to iing, 
To growing bards upon a vent'rous wing ; 



Iii 



m A PROSPECT OF POETRY, 

In cloifter'd fhades and academic groves, 

Whofe peaceful glooms a mufing fancy loves ; 

Where learn'd Ufher blefs'd the reverend pile, 

And Alma's glories in her Berkley fmile ; 

Where mitred Brown* indulg'd the thoughtful hours, 

In fage receffes and Athenian bow'rs ; 

Where Parnel wak'd the long forgotten ftrain, 

And old Ierne firings her harp again: 

Here pleas'd to liften to the well-known found* 

And hail our mother rifing from the ground; 

Shake off the dull that foil'd the filent wire, 

And tune once more her venerable lyre, 

While green with ivy grow her awful walls, 

And from her face the Druid's mantle falls ; 

Along the park beneath the quivering trees, 

I walk retir'd and court the cooling breeze, 

Where the tall elms project the browneft (hade, 

There oft the mufes wander thro' the glade ; 

There oft I follow beauty with furprife, 

And drink fweet numbers from infpiring eyes; 

With eager ileps I crofs the verdant ftage, 

And foon tranfplant 'em to my borrow'd page ; 

Each maid I meet I fet her graces down, 

Hence critics fay thofe thoughts are not my own, 

Fine is the fecret, delicate the part, 
To praife with prudence and addrefs with art; 



Lncomium 



* Doctor Peter Brown, deceafed, biftiop of Cork, and formerly 
provoft of T. C. D.— See his fermons. 



A PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Encomium chiefly is that kind of wit, 

Where compliments mould indire&ly hit ; 

From difPrent fubje&s take their fudden rife, 

And leaft expefted caufe the more furprife: 

" For none have been with admiration read, 

€C But who befide their learning were well bred."* 

Such fuit all taftes, on ev'ry tongue remain, 

Forbid our blufhes and prevent our pain ; 

Such fubjects bell a Boyle might underftand, 

Thefe call, my Lord, for an uncommon hand ; 

To turn the finer features of the foul, 

To paint the paffions fparkling as they roll; 

The pow'r of numbers, the fuperior art, 

To wind the fprings that move the beating heart i 

With living words to fire the blood to rage, 

Or pour quick fancy on the glowing page : 

This be thy praife, nor thou this praiie refufe,. 

From no unworthy, nor ungrateful mufe ; 

A mufe as yet unblemifh'd as unknown, 

Who fcorns all flattery and who envies none: 

Gf wrongs forgetful, negligent of fame, 

Who found no patron, and who loft no name \ 

IndifPrent what the world may think her due, 

Whofe friends are many, tho' her years are few* 



LETTERS 



* Eilay on tranllated verfe, by the Earl of Rofccnimasu 



JLETTEMS & POEMS, 



TO 



MR. DELACOUR, 

GN THE PRECEDING SUBJECT. 



«> 



n mto a »M M i sij a M ' iWaiuiLiMliiJUHBwuiiJ 



.ON THE 



PROSPECT OF POETRY, 



Jl ROM rural fcen'es where fame detefts to Hay, 

Or if (he comes is hurrying ftill away ; 

Where once an age your Phcebus will come dowrij 

To do us honour in a country town; 

Accept a generous, but a poor return, 

From broken fortunes and a life forlorn. 

'Tis now forrie years; and age may tell the truth* 
Since firft I trod this fairy land of youth ; 
That fire I found misfortunes could remove, 
And all my verfes vanifti'd with my love: 
I view'd green fields as unregarded things, 
And talk'd like other folks of groves and fprings 3 
Cou'd fmell a rofe, and dream not of the fair, 
Or praife a fnow-drop, tho' the nymph was there ji ' 
At length I met your unaffected ft rain, 
My foul diflolv'd, and I grew young again. 

O! ever friendly, ever worthy praife! 
Lov'd for thyfelf and iov'd for all thy lays! 
Add that behaviour that endear'd thee long, 
A.dQ thy own temper fweeter than thy fang; 

Thofe 



38 ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

Thofe manners ftill that make thee more belov'd* 
Yet ev'n thofe virtues pafs not unreprov'dj 
For this thy foul in bitternefs repines, 
Or fmiles indignant at the world's defigns. 

On Cupid's pinions Aire thy fancy flew! 
Ev'n beauty palls when not deferib'd by you ; 
Picture invites the touches of thy pen, 
■And look Apelles' Venus lives again ;* 
The graces work upon the unfinifh'd piece, 
And put the laft hand to the pride of Greece. 

Nor cou'd Apelles paint a piece fo true — . 
In filent colours ftill his pencil drew ; 
But you add words, and all at once exprefs, 
Mufic and painting by a vocal drefs : 
There pidur'd life in all its motions ftirs, 
And fpeaking picture with the eye confers ; 
The fluid founds fwell out with ev'ry tide, 
The full notes fluctuate and the waves divide, 
The verfe becomes a channel to the main, 
And the ftrong current fills the ftronger ftraia 

Still from the fingers let new graces fpring, 
Still (hake more mufic from the founding firing, 
Swan-like continue warbling to the laft, 
And for the future pleafe as in the paftj 



That 



[ The portrait ef Venus iofcribed to herfelf, by J. D. L. C. 



ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY. ?8> : 

That all mankind may help to make thee bleft, 
And thy own virtue far above the reft; 
Prevailing goodnefs prove fo much thy friend. 
And fo much honefty thy heart attend, 
The world muft own, with anger envy fee, 
How good men love to praife themfelves in thee. 

W. WALSH. 

County of Clare^ in Ireland* 



mi 



OH THE 



PROSPECT OF POETRY* 



J\s fome lone traveler thro' the penfive made,* 
Miffing his way uncertain where to tread, 
Affrighted turns, and if by chance he fpies 
Sulphurous flames from diftant marines rife; 
To them with lengthened ftrides in tranfport haftes* 
But as he comes the bright delufion waftes: 
Thus mock'd by vifion, and by labour worn,_ 
Sits down and waits the cheerful day's return. 

So were we wand'ring in an age of night, 
Led by falfe fplendours and a glimm'ring lights 
3 Till you at length arofe to charm the heart, 
With moving nature and with matchlefs art; 
From a wild chaos of eternal night, 
Gathered the fcatter'd feeds of dubious lights 
And with wife care digefting all in one, 
Compos'd this glorious, this enlivening fun; 
Whofe vig'rous luflre and convincing ray, 
Gives the whole truth's indubitable day. 
No more let Rome or elder Greece appear 
The objects of our ftudy, praife and care; 



Since 



ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY. 41 

Since here a train of precepts we furvey, 

As greatly good, and as correct as they ; 

Thy thoughts from the grand body feem to grow 3 

Like verdant leaves that fhade the parent bough ; 

Perfuafive eloquence her aid bellows, 

And each harmonious line with mufie flows. 

O gen'rous youth purfue the grand defign, 

And be a Mofes to thy darling nine, 

See ! learning ope her deep unfa thorn* d fea, 

Confefs thy miffion and admit thy way ; 

Then urge it on, reftore with grateful toil.* 

The baninVd mufes to their native foil. 

Thy Siren lays ftill form a pleafing cheat, 
And on my fenfe impofe the dear deceit ; 
In them we viewed the ftream, the wood, the lawn, 
So lively there the painted landscape's drawn ! 
That loft in rapture we deceive our ear, 
And ftill the floating mirror murmurs here : 
Their endlefs verdure by no ftorms fhall fade, 
While your fmooth lines afford a grateful made. 

The bright perfe&ions of the female kind 
By you defcrib'd leave nature far behind ! 
From charm to charm my eyes inceffant roll, 
Devour thy beauties, and admire thy fouJ> 
That cou'd defcribe the fair fo many ways, 
And in variety of beauty pleafe.* 

G So 



* The Progrefs of Beauty, 



42 ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

So when the moon leads on her radiant train* 
A thoufand fires adorn the gloomy fcene : 
The mingl'd glories cheer the evening fky, 
And pour their fplendours on the raviuVd eye. 

Forgive the mufe, that in advent'rous verfe, 
Wou'd all the beauties of thy foul rehearfej 
Content in hours of leifure thus to fing, 
And load with mufic time's unwearied wing; 
Nor think becaufe that Pope approved thy lays, 
That I fhou'd therefore be induc'd. to praife : 
*Tis friendfhip bids me now thofe numbers choofe t 
And love the man abflrafted from the mufe : 
Well-pleaPd alike with you my hours to fpend, 
Whether I choofe the author or the friend* 

Too fcpn that fvveet fociety decays, 
And we mull both forfake thofe golden days* 
No more, alas! to tafxe thofe joys again, 
And frieadfliip cherifhed here for years in vain, 
jDeje&ed thought ! that thofe whom Alma bred* 
One dome protected and one table fed, 
Whofe comfortable minutes danc'd away, 
Like the calm evening of a fummer's day, 
WJien fortune calls them into fep'rate climes, 
Shou'd never meet to tell of happier times; 
Never to meet again ordain' d by fate, 

Far from each other- *and the mufes feat. 

C. WHITE, A. B* 



B t am r taete ss^uK - ss r -ss L- si A ', : -\i s^ s ^SBar j r »v. 



L ^ *^'j»j?ta p^i 



Oft THE 



'PROSPECT OF PGETMY* 



JLAQW iiiany vain attempts have been defign'd? 
As well to pleafe as to improve the mind! 
Both which in thee mod happily unite ; ' 
Strange that inftru&ion mould fo much delight* 

So in Hefperia's ever blifsful foil, 
Autumn and fpring alone are feen to fmile; 
At once the fruit difplays its golden hues, 
And opening buds their odorous fweets diffufe. 

Lur'd by thy precepts and enchanting tongue* 
As if by magic, I too tempt the fong; 
While Orpheus' wonders are reviv'd by you, • 
And now, if ever, ancient fable's true : 
Sublim'd by mulic, here the rough rocks rife 
A growing pile! behold it greets the ikies J 
Or mould the low'ring north impregn'd with rain, 
Pour forth its ftorms to temped up the- main 5 
Breathe thy foft numbers ! — and th' unruly fea 
Smooths its broad face, and bears its rage Iway. 
Nor with lefs glory in thy glowing lines 
Tfean in his eail the radiant planet fiiineo; 

G % How 



44 ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY. 

How mild with lucid glances flows his ray, 
When firft he rifes o'er the vernal day! 
How noon-tide fires blaze o'er the heav'nly plains^ 
Gild the green villas' and adorn the fcenes! 

Long dead to mufic and the Druid's flame, 
Our ifle flood hindmoft in the lifts of fame ; 
9 Till Parnel rofe to charm the filent glade, 
Then raptur'd nature fmiPd thro' every mead; 
But linCe fell death untimely ftopt his tongue, 
Hufh'd his gay notes, his filver lyre unftrung; 
Well picas' d we view him breathe again in thee, 
Heir to his numbers and his harmony. 

So when once Atlas left the bleft abodes, 
Down heav'n had falPn commix'd with all its gods; 
If great Alcides, partner of their cares, , 
With ftrength enormous had not propp'd the fpheres, 
Content the gods thread o'er the ftar pav'd plain, 
Nor thus fecure wifh Atlas back again. 

R. LLOYD, A. B. 

Fanjhu'n, near Charlevilte, 






in 



1ST 



PROSPECTUM POESEOS. 



Reverendo amico Jacobo Delacour, A. B. 

JYlUSARUM imp'eriuni, lateq; patentia regna, 
Celfus ab Aonio dum vertice, lumine Phcebi 
Suffufus luftras; quae te, Delacourte, perenni 
Ardua pertingent vatum tentamina fama I 

Jam nunc, ecce, parat quondam vocalis Ierne 
(A te dum recipit Phoebi mandata parentis) 
Gentilem reparare lyram, cantufq; ciere; 
Occulta quamvis torperet fixa dolore 
Diva diu, vocemq; premens fufpiria mifit. 
Tu quaecunq; facro dignaris tangere verfu, 
Gratior effingi pafiim natura videtur. 
Rem, non verba, videt, mira qui illuditur arte 
Le&or, & abfentem praefentit imagine formam* 
Si leni zephyrus fylvas perfibilet aura, 
Ille fimul taftus vento recreatur inani : 
Jam jam, parte alia fi carminis, ardua rupes 
Horrifono pelagi raucefcat pulfa fragore, 
Illi perculfas idem, circumtonat aures,. 



Dum 



46 ON THE PROSPECT Of POETRY. 

Dum pulchram rerum feriem tua pagina volvi^ 
Continuo miri fplendores ordine currunt: 
Sic ftellse ftellas, & figna fequentia figna, 
Aflurgunt oculis rapidi vertigine mundi, 
Nee humile interea quidquam, parvumve tuemur* 
Ardua fed toto fulgent miracula ccelo. 

O Tantas cui mentis opes effudit Apollo! 
Te mufae patrissq; decus, memor efto, debere; 
Immerito miferum comitatur copia Parcum, 
Tu cum fis dives, fac, ut videare benignus. 

EDMUNDUS MURPHY, A. M. 

fcBITOR SBLECTORUM LUCTANI BIALOGORUM, 



• » 



t 

ON THE 



PROSPECT OF POETRY. 



XjLAIL happy darling of the nine! 

Parnaffus now is wholly thine; 
.Let others round its bottom creep, 
While you triumphant mount the fteep, 
And from its lofty tops look down, 
On the poetic world, your own, 
3 Tis true the rich may poorly boaft 
Of large eftates on fome fair coaft, 
But happier thou, and richer fcill, 
You're fovereign of this facred hill. 

JAMES CONOLLY. 



TO 



TO 



MR. JAMES BEIiACOlIR, 

IN IRELAND, 



ON HIS 



PROSPECT OF POETRY. 



Jt JLAIL gently warbling Delacour, whofe fame, 

Spurning Hibernia's folitary coaft, 

Where fmall rewards attend the tuneful throng> 

Pervades Britannia's well difcerning ifle; 

In fpite of all the gloomy minded tribe 

That would eclipfe thy merit — fhall the mufe 

High foaring o'er the tall Parnaffian mount, 

With fpreading pinions fing thy wond'rous praife, 

In ftrains attun'd to the feraphic lyre, 

Sing unappall'd, tho' mighty be the theme ? 

O ! cou'd me in thy own harmonious ftrain, 

Where fofteft numbers fmpothly flowing glide 

In trickling cadence; where the milky maze 

Devolves in filence; by the harfher found 

Of hoarfer periods ftill unruffl'd, cou'd 

Her lines but like thine own Euphrates flow i 

Then might fhe fing in numbers worthy thee. 



But 



ON lliE PROSPECT OF POETRY. 49 

But what can language do, when fancy finds 
Herfelf unequal to the lovely talk ? 
Can feeble words thy vivid colours paint, 
Of fhew the fweets which inexhauftive flow ? 

Hearken ye woods, and long refounding groves, 
Liften ye flreams foft purling thro' the meads, 
And hymning horrid, all ye tempefis roar, 
Awake ye woodlands, fing ye warbling larks 
In wildly lufeious notes ; but moil of all 
Attend you grateful fair, attend the youth 
Who fweetly fmgs of nature and of you: 
From you alone his confcious breaft expects 
Its foft rewards, by fordid love of gain 
Unbiafs'd, undebas'd; to meaner minds 
Belong fuch narrow views, his nobler foul 
Tranfported with a gen'rous thirft of fame/ 
Sublimely rifes with expanded wings, 
And thro 5 the lucid Empyrean foars. 
So the young eagle wings its rapid way 
*Thro' heav'ns broad azure; fometimes fprings aloft, 
Npw drops, now cleaves with even-waving wings 
The yielding air, nor feas nor mountains flop 
Its flight impetuous, gazing at the fun 
With irretorted eyes, whillt he pervades 
A tracklefs void, and unexplor'd before* 

Long had the curious traveler ftrove to find. 
The ruins of afpiring Babylon 

H In 



M 



ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY, 



In vain— for nought the niceft eye eould tracer 

Save one wide wat'ry undiftinguinVd wafte, 

But you with more than magic art have rais'd 

Scmiramis' city from its grave; 

You have revers'd the fcripture curfe which faidj 

Dragons mail here inhabit ; in your page 

We view the rifing fpires, the hurried eye 

Diftra&ed wanders thro' the verdant maze % 

In middle air the pendent gardens hang, 

Tremendous cieling ! — whilft no folar beam 

Falls on the lengthened gloom beneath; the woods 

Project above a fleep alluring made ; 

The nnifh'd garden opens to the view 

Wide ftretching vifta's, while the whifp'ring wind 

Dimples along the breezy ruffled lake. 

Now every tree irregular, and bum 

Ai*e prodigal of harmony, the birds 

Frequent the aerial woods, and nature bluflies 

Aiham'd to find herfelf outdone by art: 

Thefe and a thoufand beauties cou'd I fing. 

Collecting like the ever-toiling bee 

From yonder mingled vvildernefs of flowers 

The aromatic fweets; while you great youth* 

O'er thy decaying country chief prefide ; 

Be thou her genius callM, infpire her youth 

With noble emulation to arrive 

At Helicon^ fair font, which few, alas ! 

Save you, have tailed, of Hibernian youth. 

Thy country, tho' corrupted brought thee forth 



And 



QN THE PROSPECT OF POETRY. M| 

And deem'd her greateft ornament ; and now 
Regards thee as her brighteft northern ftar. 
Long may you reign as fuch, and fhou'd grim time 
With iron teeth deprive us of our Pope, 
Then we'll tranfplant thy blooming laurels ffem 
From your bleak more to Albion's happier coa«# 

J. THOMSON. 

AUTHOR OF THE SEASON^ 



H2 



T3 



TO 



Ml, BEJLACOUR. 



Mar/town, December 15, 1733* 



SIR, 



I WAS refolved to be fo early in my acknowledgments, that 
I had only allowed myfelf time curforily to read over a Poem 
infcribed to me, which a few hours ago reached this place,* where 
1 live the world forgetting, and I was in hopes by the world for- 
got. It was great pleafure to me when I was in Ireland to fi " 
the fpirit of poetry arifing there with frefh vigour: here it is 
finking apace, and feems only kept up by Mr. Pope; but indeed 
he alone is Efficient to maintain it in its utmoft fplendour, for 
which reafon I think we ought to wifh him immortal in every 
fenfe. 

I will not defpair of returning you my thanks within thefe 
few months, in a country to which I fnould be very ungrateful 
if fhe did not.poffefs the warmeft wifhes of my heart. In tfie 
mean time, Sir, though you are happy in many friends already, 
I hope you will do me the juftice to add to them the name of 
Your moft obedient Servant, 

ORRERY. 



TO 



Somerfetfhire. 



TO 



THEAUTHOE, 



London , September IO, I734» 

JlT is with the Utmoft pleafure that I begin a correfpondence 
with my dear nephew, on the fubject of wifhing you joy of 
your happy genius. The Prospect of Poetry introduces you 
to many, and I heartily wifh you may have a grateful reward 
for your pretty labours from fome generous reader; indeed it is 
Wrong to call fo much beauty labour, but its pardonable in my 
fex to want proper language. 

I mall hope to fee you grace a pair of lawn fleeves in my time, 
and be affured that every advantage in life, that fortune can blefs 
you with, fhall always be a very great addition to my fatisfaclion. 

I will not tire you longer; I wifh you perfect happinefs, and am 
my dear, 

Your affectionate humble Servant, 

ELIZA. WALSH. 



■a 



TO 



MR. MXACOUR. 



DEAR COUSIN, 

-11 F I had not feen thofe juft encomiums on the Prospect, of 
Poetry, I might have been tempted in humble profe to have 
aimed at fomething of this fort; but as it is difficult to praife juftly 
without being thought guilty of flattery, I am glad thofe gen- 
tlemen have eafed me of the fear of offending either on the one 
hand or trie other: though I flatter myfelf that I feel all the fe- 
veral emotions of heart that thofe gentlemen do, in the variety 
of your ftyle and beauty of expreffion, yet I am more ftruck with 
the judgment, learning and politenefs of the author, which aire 
the caufe of thefe mafierly ftrokes of poetry, than with the ef- 
fects; though at the fame time I muft afTure you that on account, 
of its own merit, exclusive of any other confederation.. 



Tale tuum carmen nobis, divine poeta; 
Quale fopor feffis in gramine, quale per seftum 
Bulcis aqup faliente fitim reftinguere rivo: 
Nam neque me tantum venientis fibilus auflri, 
Nee percuna juvant fludu tarn littora, nee qu» 
Saxofas inter decurrunt fiumina valles. 

Vjrg. Ecl.£ 

My mother is in high raptures when fhe hears your perfor- 
mance; and that ycu may lay as much itrefs upon her recoza- 

mendatitg*. 



*M Trl£ PROSPECT OF PGfeTRY. 55 

jttfftdation as it really deferves, I mud do her the juftice to fay- 
that, (though fhe is a very great enemy to fighting) yet upon my 
reading aloud the account of the death of Patroclus, out of the 
1 6th hook of Pope's translation of the Illiad, fhe told me it was 
very fine. I will not fay how much you will oblige me, if you 
will endeavour to fend me the Progrefs of Beauty, and any other 
of your offspring that are either elder or younger than this. 

I have enclofed a criticifm on our favourite Thomfon, which 
*I am the rather induced to do as it agrees With your rules on 
that fubje<5t; the gentleman who wrote it is a particular friend 
of mine, in whofe company I have paffed many agreeable hours 
when I was in Warwickshire, he is going to oblige the worrd 
with a poem upon hunting in blank verfe, called the Chafe: all 
the news I can pick up from the poetic world is, that we expect 
to fee another performance of Mr. Thomfon's this winter, and 
an elegant tranflation of Anacreon by an unknown hand, as to 
the two laft works I know them only by character, I have a 
more intimate acquaintance with the former, and will venture to 
fay that it will bring you over to be fond of that fort of poetry. 

I know not how to fay a more affectionate thing to you, and 
the reft of mankind, than to wifh you fuch a fituation of life 
as will be fuitable to your merit, in doing which I am fure I pay 
full as great a compliment to thofe with whom you {hall refide, 
as I do to you. Be affured that there is not, nor ever fliall be, in 
this place, any perfon who can have a greater inclination to fer-ve 
you than, 

Your moft affectionate kinfman, 

And obedient humble Servant, 

CROSSE OUTING. 

P. S. I fuppofe you have feen Mr. Pope's laft fatire, were I to 
give my opinion ©f it I fliould fay it was th^ iirfl thing he ever 

writ. 



56 



ON THE PROSPECT OF POETRY; 



writ, though I am ready to own it has many charms, yet I be- 
lieve were the faults placed in the oppofite fcale, they would draw 
down the balance. I am thinking that if thefe fatires laft 'till 
the next age, the joke will ceafe, when the perfons are no mtore, 
and pofterity will have but an indifferent opinion of the author's 
humanity ; for my own part I mail always believe that one ounce 
of good nature is worth a pound of wit. 
London, Au£i[P 1% I 734« 



V 



AEELARD 



ABELARD TO EJLOISA* 



• IN ANSWER TO 



MR v POPE J S' 

EJLOIS^L TO «!BEEAMB« 

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1729, 



at ilia , 
Flet rro&em, ramoq; fedens miferabile carmen 
Integrat, & moeftibus late loca queftibiis implet. 

Virg. Geor. IV, 

But fhe fupplies the night vvith mournful flrains^ 
And melancholy muflc fills the plains, 

Dryden, 



PREFACE, 



JjL DOUBT not in the leaft, but fome will think it abfurd to 
Write a preface to fo fmall a piece as this letter fhews itfelf to be i 
I confefs they may be fo far right ; but, however, I muft make my- 
felf underftood fo as to avoid thofe cenfures that may other wife 
be thrown on me for writing it. In the firfl place, it was not 
publifhed with a defign to rival any thing of this nature that went 
before it: every perfon that has read Mr. Pope's juflly admired 
piece, are convinced that it has beauties fcarce to be imitated, 
much lefs tranfcended: it is built upon a ftory undoubtedly true, 
the circumflances happening in the twelfth century, and delivered 
down to us by writers of undoubted veracity; all that have heard 
them join in pity to deplore fo moving a relation. Abelard and 
Eloifa by all accounts were two of the moft diftinguifhed perfons 
in the age they lived in for natural and refined parts, early they 
tailed the forbidden fruit and as early fuffered for it. He was 
pitched upon by her uncle, an abbot in France, to be her precep- 
tor in philofophy ; by which means this unlucky paffion firft look 
its rife that was to cofl them fo many tears afterwards. The li- 
berties of an unconfined converfation ferved only to blow it higher : 
two of the moft beautiful perfons in that age could not behold 
each other long with the eyes of infenfibility ; they loved, and in- 
dulged their mutual willies, and one evening, when they thought 
all was fafe, all private and fecure, the abbot, who had fufpeclcd 
them a good while before, bounced into the room and feized them 
in the very fail, O ! who can defcribe the furprife in each of 
their faces, Eloifa was hurried away that inftant from his fight,. 
Xiever to fee her more but in a convent; and the unhappy Abe- 
I 2 hid 



60 



PREFACE. 



lard was forcibly deprived of the means of ever tafting thofe Joys 
again by the hands of ruffians. Thus did thofe faithful lovers re- 
tire betimes from the vanities of a treacherous world, they went 
to feparate convents and confecrated the remainder of their day* 
to religion. Long after this a letter falling by chance into Eloi- 
fa's hands, that was written by Abelard to fome of his friends, in 
which he gives them an account of his unheard of calamities and 
affii&ions: this awakened all her tendernefs, and occafioned thofe 
celebrated letters which Mr. Pope and all the world will fay, do 
give the moft lively defcription of the ftruggles of nature, virtue 
and paflion. They died after this and were buried in the monas- 
tery called the Paroclete, in the fame tomb, or in monuments 
adjoining. 

I have read Mr. Pope's letter, and do think it impoflible for 
futurity to produce, in our language, any thing fofter in its kind 
than that celebrated epiftle. The many gloomy horrors and 
mournful images worked up here and there, and foftened wfch his 
all-tender exprefiions, render it a mafler-piece for fucceeding ages. 
As I read him with the pleafure of an admirer, fo I hope I have 
not wanted care to imitate him: if I fall, I greatly fall, my am- 
bition leading me to imitate one of the fineft pieces of the kind 
now extant; nay, if I may have leave to fay fo, I think it even 
excels Mr. Prior's Henry to Emma, which charmed the fineft 
taftes abroad and at home. How I have ftudied Mr. Pope's ftyle, 
1 leave to the ladies, who are much the propereft judges in fuch 
iiiTairs, and for whom it was chiefly defigned. — If I am fo happy 
as to be approved of by them, let the reft of the world cenfure 
as they pleafe, I fhall remain Hill their humble Servant, 

JAMES DELACOUR, 



ABELARQ 



ABEZARD TO ELOISA. 



Jl R O M (hades as deep and gloomy as the bow'rs, 

Where Eloifa fpends her thoughtful hours, 

This melancholy paper haftes away 

From Abelard — far plung'd from painful day, 

Darkling he mourns-the fate he could not fhun, 

And grieves to find fuch faithful fouls undone. 

Can Eloifa yet difturb a breaft? 
Refign'd for ever to eternal reft, 
Forbid to harbour any glimpfe of love, 
But w)iat this convent dictates from above ; 
YeSj virtue bad me write her name and know, 
Virtue and pailion both will have it fo. 

Harmonious name ! ftill mufical in grief, 
Dear favoMte found! to footh a fhort relief, 
How hard it is, pronounce it O my tongue, 
The balmy accent thou haft often wrung, 
When happier times made Eloifa kind, 
And melting wifhes tun'd us to one mind. 
Now cloifter'd up in folitude me dwells, 
Trims her pale lamp, and wakes to midnight bells, 
Penfive me fits on the relentlefs ftone, 
For ever mufing, thoughtful and alone; 

Where 



62 ABELARD TO ELOISA. 

Where awful darknefs aids the fears of night, 
And the blue taper calls a gloomy light ; 
Where folemn objects lift the riling foul, 
Teem into thought, and a&uate the whole ; 
Where fancy makes the big ideas ftrong, 
And forms imperfect glide away in fong ; 
Such odd impreiiions will the mind receive 
When drench'd in melancholy's fable wave; 
Mo fly and old the ruin'd dome appears 
Amid the vale of mifery and tears. 

Ye filent walks! ye ever lonely walk! 
Deaf to a lover, and to nature's calls ; 
Ye facred cells! ye venerable Hones! 
Where Abelard in time muft lay his bones ; 
Thro' whofe dark cloifters never wander'd light, 
Where Owlets fcream the moments of the night; 
Long founding ifles! in which devotion lies, 
In thought conceal'd from all but hermit's eyes: 
Can love, that tender pafiion, enter here? 
Where phantoms frown, and angels learn to fear ; 
G ! never, never, but in fouls like curs, 
Fcrm'd for this by love's efpecial pow'rs. 

And doft thou love ? yet burns that fatal flame ? 
Or wilt thou afk from whence this letter came ? 
It comer, not from the dead to gain belief, 
To footh thy woes, or mitigate thy grief; 
No Eloifa ! — 

From 



ASfcLAFJD TO ELOISA, SI 

From Abelard it comes, a mournful gueft, 
That wants a lodging in a troubled bread ; 
It will not hurt thee, it will fympathife, 
Fall with thy bofom, with thy bofom rife ; 
Sad as its author let it tell its tale, 
And when you hear it pity will prevail. 

When the feas rage, and wintry blafts complain, 
When rattling Eurus blows a hurricane. 
In midnight cell I flretch without a bed, 
Ten thoufand thoughts revolving in my head; 
One while the dangers of the flormy deep, 
Tho' fafe at land, have kept my eyes from fleep ; 
Now gentle pity Heals upon the mind, 
To think of thofe opprefs'd by fea and wind ; 
Oft have I wonderM while the hinges crake, 
And trees around the monaxlery make; 
What fweet temptation or what bofom wife, 
Could tempt the merchant to this kind of life j 
Now moralife upon the fhipwreck'd dead, 
And view the emblem of that life we fled. 
My weary eye-balls o'er the ocean caft, 
Strain at the horrors of the wat'ry waite ; 
Sigh to the whirling winds, and tune my woe 
To the hoarfe murmurs of the forge below ; 
Then from my foul a train of griefs arife, 
And the big tears fland trembling in my eyes ; 
From woe to woe, with wild diitradion toft, 
I mourn my Eloifa— - ever loft. 

Why 



$4 



ABELARD TO ELOISA, 



Why wilt thou then my Elcifa fay ? 
" Can'ft thou forget that fad that folemn day?" 
Why with fuch doubts upbraid a veftal flame, 
And think thy Abelard but thine in name ? 
O wert thou here ! which cruel fate denies, 
To read that mournful foftnefs in thofe eyes, 
To fearch thofe looks and all the features trace, 
Of that once known but now much alter'd face; 
Soon would'ft thou find tho ? alter'd in his frame. 
The heart of Abelard was fbill the fame, 
Yes — thou would fee it breaking with defpair, 
And thou, not God, my Eloifa there. 

How chang'd thy Abelard? how wan his looks? 
Pale with continual turning over books ; 
The night now feems a deeper black to wear, 
And found more faintly tingles in my ear ; 
The day looks dull, for 'tis no day to me, 
Depriv'd of all my foul held dear in thee; : v 
Reftlefs I rove — no Eloifa here, 
To charm my grief, or drink the falling tear; 
Hulh like a child my beating heart to reft, 
And lull me on the pillow of her breaft. 



No ! — far from hence fad Eloifa walks, 
With mimic grief to fportive Echo talks; 
In confecrated fhades forgets her bloom, 
And flies the palace for the kinder tomb; 
Pleas'd with the gloomy horror of the place, 
A charming fadnefs fits upon her face 5 



Sife 



ABELARD TO ELOISA, SJ 

She eyes the walls intent upon her fate, 
And fmooths the rugged rocks of Paracletes 
Methinks I fee the beauteous mourner grow 
In love with grief, tranfported with her woe$ 
Her fteps fhe counts, her bended head rechVd 
Shews her diftemperM fympathy of mind, 
Full of herfelf, in folemn pace me moves,' 
Buried in thought thro' folitary groves. 

Now paradife afcends beneath her feet. 
Fields ever frefh, and flow'rs for ever fweetj, 
Angels defcend, divine Cecelia fings, 
And feraphs fan her with their filken wings, 
She dies away in fweet oblivious thought, 
And even her Abelard is now forgot. 
Ah no ! me wakes, again fhe fighs, ihe mourns, 
And the fame round of endlefs grief returns ; 
From her fine eyes the big round drops defcend, 
Form'd by thofe funs in wat'ry diamonds end, 
With fragrant dew enrich the facred ground. 
Perfume her robe and wet the fane around. 

Oh Eloifa thou eternal charm! 
Soft as thyfelf, and as thy perfon warm ; 
'Tis thine to come to Abelard by right 
To focth his ravings and difpel the night, 
Whifper the world of cordials to his mind, 
But Eloifa is no longer kind. 
No longer the kind goddefs of thofe hours 
That danc'd away in foft Lutetian bow'rs; 

K Ah 



tf A^fcLARD TO RLOISA. 

Ah fatal congrefs! tragically fweet! 
Where days were hours at Eloifa's feet ; 

Xhefe days were once but now no more in love, 

Change Abelard this heaven for that above. 

Wou'd heaven confent! we fliouM together bfe 
To figh in concert, grieve in harmony, 
Then fhou'd thy eyes all-red my paffipns move, 
Teach mine to weep, as once they thought to love; 
Then fhou'd we learn that fad, that moving air, 
More eloquent than words to tell Our fond defpair j 
Then glutton-like, devour each others grief, 
No envious witnefs by to lend relief; 
There clafp, indulge in luxury of woe, 
'Till face to face inanimate we grow. 

Delufive thought! oh vanity in me! 
To wifh for things impoffible to be; 

No Eloifa- think of former times, 

Of dear, fad, fleeting, inoffenfive crimes, 
Crimes that drew down this vengeance from above 
Unknown to us all innocent in love! 
Sweetly we ran our then appointed race, 
In ways of pleafure and in paths of peace ; 

I wou'd not mention but alas you'll fay, 

My Abelard is far lefs kind than they: 
Then hear and tremble at this fad decree, 
>Ti» heaven that fpeaks in Abelard to thee* 



Long 



ABELARD TO ELOISA. tf? 

Long waftes, deep wiHs, an unfrequented fpace, 
Forbid us e'er to fee each others face ! 
And did there not, th' Almighty ftands between, 
With double vengeance paints the frightful fcene ; 
An uncle's blood tho 3 drank by thirfty laws, 
Cries out for vengeance on the guilty caufe : 
Who tho' he merited the lofs of breath, 
Yet 'twas our crimes conducted him to death : 
He fell, and falling by a common hand,* 
Declar'd we help'd to fpill his vital fand. 
And fee a lover bound and bleeding lies, 
" To ftain thy foul, and wanton in thy eyes." 
Say Eloifa can no taught moleft 
The dull tranquillity within thy bread ? 
Say don't the black remembrance ftab thy heart, 
And drive my image from that tender part, 
Oh fpeak! does not this tragedy divine? 
That Eloifa can be never mine ; 
It does, it does, too fenfibly I fear, 
To leave us any hopes beyond defpair. 

And thou fair penitent I thou mourning bride* 
Loft to thyfelf, and all the world befide; 
Say did I once one agony impart, 
Say could you feel the motions of my heart ? 

K 2 Even 



* He was executed at Paris by the common hangman, for his 
cruelties on Abelard whom he caufed to be difmembered. 

See Bothefo 



68 



ABELARD TO ELQI3A, 



Even in that fad, that folemn hour of grief,* 1 

When Eloifa wanted moil relief; 

When the foft mufick mourn'd in ftrain divine? 

And Eloifa was no longer mine. 

Sad as thou wert, all beautifully gay, 

Dreft for the fatal bufinefs of the day ; 

I found fome confolation in my breaft, 

That both were going to eternal reft ; 

When floods of glory burfl upon our eyes* 

And open'd all the pomp of facrifice. 

With irrefiftible devotion frVd, 

How was my foul harmonioufly infpir'd! 

When thro' the throng by ev'ry foul belov'd, 

Thou urg'd thy way, thyfelf alone unmov'd, 

What fighs were heard! what forrows did not flow,. 

To fee fo young a facrifice to woe : 

When heav'n, above, below was in my eye, 

A thoufand times that hour I wifh'd to die ; 

So abfolutely had my foul forgot 

Thofe vanities we both fo dearly bought^ 

But oh ! when once we came to feparate, 

There lay the blow, the deadly blow of fate ; 

With eafe I bad delufive friends adieu, 

Could part with all, with all the world but you ;■ 

Yet even this thy Abelard at laft 

Wa& forc'd to prove, to finifti the repaft. 

Confummate 



* At her receiving the veil 



ABELARD TO ELOISA, 69 

Confummate drought! O dregs of bitter care! 
Drained to the bottom, muddy with defpair, 
So thick that Abe lard may well fuppofe, 
They were the very grounds of all his woes % 
Yet ftill he writes, endeavours Hill to join 
Tale to fad tale, nor mall it all be thine, 
A little forrow Abelard muft have 
To Jay him gently in the filent grave: 
That port of calms, that pallet of the bleff, 
Where the poor laborer lays him down to reft; 
Here is no hurry, virgins feldom fear, 
The lofs of man or reputation here. 

No broken faith, no vows, no fears, no groans, 
Diflurb the awful quiet of thofe bones 5 
In peace they reft, here wait their final doom, 
And look for day4ight in a world to come. 
Inchanting ftate ! where folitude can pleafe 
Even in the duft, and all the world at eafe; 
Where wretched lovers after troubles meet^ 
And dream of nothing in a winding-meet; 
Tho' hard the bed is, found they {lumber there, 
Weary of life, and jaded out with care. 

Oh Eloifa! fweet as Sharon's rofe! 
How fatal have I been to thy repofe, 
Unhappy Abelard thy hand reftrain, 
Nor write what may give Eloifa pain. 
This, even this, tho' flight, for ought you know, 
May caufe thofe te?rs, thofe precious tears to flow; 

The 



70 



ABELARD TO ELOISA, 



The foft remembrance may difturb that breaft, 
Where thou haft dwelt a long, a ftubborn gueft j 
Then why would'ft thou awake the flumb'ring mind, 
To think of moments cruelly unkind ? 
Why would'ft thou fuch ungen'rous a&s purfue 
As grieving her that figh'd fo long for you, 
>Tis time to reft! ah give her that repofe. 
And let oblivion reft upon her woes* 



1H8 



THE COURTSHIP OF 



ZEPIYfiUB 



Atfa 



FLORA, 



WJUTTKK A3 AtJ EP1THALAM1UM ON THE MARIUACE OS 



LADY GRACE BOYLE 



WITH 



THE EARL OF MIDDLESEX. 



ZEPHYIUS 



AND 



JFJLO R,l 3 



lOU vvhofe mild looks by far excel the fpring, 
And all the fweets which Flora's prefence bring ; 
Whofe beauty calls upon her flave fo long, 
With fuch a fmile he can't refufe a fong : 
Now when melodious warblings fill the grove, 
And ev'ry turtle tells his tale of love, 
Vouch fafe fair maid to liilen to the mufe, 
And hear a voice which you are pleas'd to choofe# 
With my fond paffion for a while comply, 
Thou *fhalt be Flora and your Zephyr I. 

Hear how the lark begins her early ftratns, 
And wakes the wild muficians of the plains; 
Th* embroider'd fpring in green array appear^ 
And every rofe-leaf wet with pearly tears; 
The birds are pair'd ; to-morrow Flora yields 
And weds young Zephyr in his native fieMs; 
Hafte, ftick with blofibms ev'ry orange bow% 
Tip the green myrtle with a white* fiowV; 

L 'Tis 



74 2EPHYRU3 AND FLORA. 

8 Tis Venus* plant, in Paphos firft it grew, 
When o'er the fields its wanton odours flew ; 
A fpring eternal on its leaves is feen, 
And love's fweet kifs peffum'd the tender green. 
Soon will fhe come ; ye graces drefs the bed, 
And fmiling lay the pillow for her head, 
Soft let it fink in green and leafy fweets, 
Soft as her bofom which his bofom meets; 
With vernal gales he'll cool her riling fires. 
And blow delightful as her fan infpires; 
O'r all her breaft and lips the lover flies, 
And with her hand (he bids the breezes rife* 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 

From Venus's lips, for fo the mufes fung, 
Born in a figh the fweet Favonius fprung, 
That day Adonis prefs'd the rofy vale, 
When frantick beauty heard her fadd'ning tale; 
Then Cupid firft was known to fob and cry, 
And with his bandage wipe his little eye, 
Bewaii'd his brother, as he calPd the boy, 
His own companion, and his mother's joy: 
His horn no more thy infant hands fhall wield, 
Nor kifs the hounds returning from the field, 
Or ftrive to wind it hanging by his fide, 
Fleas' d with the verdant belt's neglected pride': 
Sleep, deep in peace, ye monfters of the wood, 
For his own beagles lap their matter's blood. 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 



See 



2EPHYRUS AND FLORA. 75 

See where he fwims upon that purling ft ream > 
And in the water ftrives to cool his flame ; 
The ruffled brook beneath his bofom flows, 
Its chryftal furface curling as he blows ; 
Warm Flora too upon its margin refts, 
And to the gale prefents her glowing breads, 
Or in the mirror decks with flow'rs her hair, 
And fees another Flora dancing there; 
Nor minds, intent on her reflecVd made, 
Into what kifles flie has been betray' d. 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 

From yonder arbour rife the purple hours, 
And on their fingers bafkets fill'd with flow'rs; 
Gay Hymen too ftan.ds naked in the porch, 
And in his hand flames out the nuptual torch, 
The Loves and Graces there a fmiling train, 
In gay proceflion crowd the grafly plain ; 
Impatient 'till their fav'rite tafk is done, 
And fhe and Zephyr hVd for ever one. 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 

With ftudded flow'rs flie fprinkles all the fcene, 
Embalms their leaves, and gives the groves to green : 
She ftains their coats, and bids their colours rife, 
Unfolds their glories, and augments their dyes; 
Where beauty blufhes in her fineft freaks, 
And light indulges in her gayell flreaks;. 

L z A garniture 



76 ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA. 

A garniture compofed of different hues, 
Whofe fine complexion the young graces ufes 
From whence Dione oft extracts -a blufh, 
And pulls the province.rofe from every bum; 
Again the garden in her afpeft glows, 
And on her lip the fweet carnation blows. 
Let beauty fcorn np more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 

Where Arethufa mews her filver breaft, 
And Enna's vale prefers above the reft; 
The queen of flow'rs unfolds her gaudy pride, 
And at her feet the fpreading waters glide ; 
Here little Loves Pomona's prefents bear, 
The purple produft of the early year, 
Even on his head a china vafe receives, 
And hunts for flrawberries hid beneath the leaves ; 
Delicious fruitage ! breathing foft perfume, 
That wafts a cooling fragrance thro' the room; 
And gather'd frefli, when ev'ning fans the air, 
On the green leaf allures the fmiling fair; 
Her fnpwy fingers take a blufhing hue, 
Stain'd with the fruit, and redd'ning to the view ; 
Her purple lips are ting'd with nature's dye, 
And honey-fuckles breath in every figh. 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 

Now chirping grafshoppers their nuptials fing, 

Purfued by Cupids on the fwiftefl wing; 

Shook 



ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA, 7* 

Shook from the grafs o'er blufhing meadows rove. 
Or fly for fhelter to the flow'ry grove; 
When chattering fwallows fweep along the ikies, 
Or haunt the fhaded walks for butterflys, 
Thro* the long lane now fwiftly ihoot away, 
Or o'er the bufhes hang in airy play; 
The wary fly obferves his hov'ring foe, 
And fits conceal'd beneath the leaves below; 
There flicks unmov'd, while Progne plies in fight, 
Nor opes his fcarlet pinions to the light. 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus cornply'd. 

To yonder fummer-houfe the goddefs flies, 
To cool the fervour of meridian ikies, 
Where jeflamine wove with flow'ry philerea, 
Darkens the windows, and ihuts out the day; 
There throws herfelf upon a couch of fiow'rs, 
And in foft (lumbers walles the fultry hours; 
While Zephyr tlyo* the greens regales the place* 
And breathes the fragrance full upon her face ; 
The lifted faih allows him room to peep, 
And in her lap a lamb lies fail afleep, 
Whofe milky neck the cirling ribband flains, 
And holds the little innocence in chains; 
Small filver bells beneath the collar ring, 
By Flora's finger faflen'd to the ftring: 
On the clean hearth green pots of fiow'rs afcend, 
And the broad flags beneath the chimney bend* 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
^ince Flora has with Zephyrus cornply'd. 

Here 



ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA. 

Here build the fwallows, here flirill Progne cling*, 
And fans her miflrefs with expanded wings; 
As round the roof the feather'd people play, 
And twitter wild their vernal life away; 
Eeneath the ceiling ever turning fly, 
And fill the green-houfe with difcordant cry : 
In pleafing profpeft long canals appear, 
And failing fwans in various poftures fteer, 
Some to the gale their fnowy plumage fpread, 
Or in the cirling waters plunge their head; 
While from the windows Flora feeds the fowl* 
And broken bjoffomfl on the waters roll. 
L.t beauty fcora no more to be a bride, 
Siuce Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 

And now the breeze invites the fair to bed, 
Where blofWd beans foft waving hang the head; 
Here vvrapp'd in fweets Favonius weds the fair, 
Whofe very figh perfumes the balmy air; 
O'er her fair face the fragrant bloffoma flow'r, 
Bend to her lips, and on her bofom fhow'r; 
Round her white neck the falling foliage rife, 
And draw a filken curtain o'er her eyes. 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd, 

In founding millions hither fwarm the bees* 
And in fweet murmurs hum about the trees; 
Sit on the fiow'rs, and every fragrance fip, 
from Maia's bofom to Favonia's lip; 

FavomVa 



ZEPHYRUS AND FLORA. 7< 

FavomVs lip with fpring's rife moifture ftrew'd, 
Beneath the red impreffion fwell'd and glow'd ; 
Stung with the kifs, her fmalt mouth poifon'd fhows, 
And looks diforder'd like a rumpPd rofe* 
Let beauty fcorn no more to be a bride, 
Since Flora h3s with Zephyrus comply'd. 

How long the primrofe lags behind the year, 
And when mall I the charming cuckoo hear, 

Stay gentle bird or after thee I run, 

Nor, giddy, mind if yet my fong be done : 
She heeds me not, from bough to bough me flies, 
And following fall my infpiration dies; 
No more I fing, my wit, my fancy's flown, 
And all my genius with the cuckoo gone, 
With her my mirth, my love, my rapture (lay, 
But when fhe goes, me carries all away. 
Let beauty fcorn no more toT^e a bride, 
Since Flora has with Zephyrus comply'd. 



TO 



TO 



MR. THOMSON, 



ON 



MIS SEASONS* 



X? R M funlefs worlds, where Phoebus feldom fmiles, 
But with his ev'ning wheels hangs o'er our ifles ; 
A wellern mufe to worth this tribute pays, 
From regions bord'ring on the Hebrides : 
For thee the Irifh harp new-ftrung once more, 
Greens our rough rocks and bleak Hibernian n\ore: 
Thou Thomfon, bid my fingers wake the firings, 
And with thy praife the wh\d wood hollow rings; 
The fhades of rev'rend Druids hover round, 
And bend tranfported o'er the brazen found. 

So the wing'd bee,s that idly rove along, 
( Renown'd alike for fweets as thofe for fong ; ) 
If the fhrill brafs invite them from the fky, 
In dufty clutters round the mufick fly. 

Bleft bard ! with what new luftre doft thou rife, 
Soft as the feafon o'er the fummer fkies ; 

M Thy 



8® TO MR. THOMSON, 

Thy works a* little world new found appear, 
And thou the Phoebus of a heav'n fo fair; 
Thee their bright fov'reign all the figns allow, 
And Thomfon is another name for nature now: 
Thou firft coud'ft drive the courfers of the day, 
Nor thro* the dazzling glories loft thy way, 
Thy fteeds red hoofs ftill trod th> eternal round, 
Nor flung the burning chariot to the ground. 

So round lulus' temples, blazing bright 1 
In locks difhevelPd ftream'd a length of light ; 
The prince unarm'd beheld the fparkles fpread. 
Nor fhook the mining honours from his head. 

Beneath thy touch defcription paints anew, 
And the ikies, brighten to a purer blue ; 
Spring owes thy pencil her peculiar green, 
And drowned in redder rofes fummer's feen; 
While hoary winter whitens into cold, 
And autumn bends beneath her bearded gold. 

In various drap'ry fee the rowling year, 
And the wild wafte in fable fpots appear; 
O'er the black bog the bittern ftalks alone, 
And to the naked marfties makes his moan; 
Where Lapwing Tereus fkims the wat'ry fcenes ;|! 
And to the Glin of Itys' change complains.* 



But 



* The Plover's vpice naturally feems to call Itys, who was turned 
iatp a Pheafant, as Tereus into a ^apwing by Ovid. 



O'N HIS SEASONS, *3 

But criief the fweeteft paflion beft you fing, 
The groves foft theme, and fymphony of faring ; 
How brindPd lions roar with fierce defire, 
And in the waters Phocse feels the fire 5 
There large Leviathan unwieldy raves, 
And burns tho' circled round with all his Waves. 
But higher Hill thofe wonders mull: give place, 
To the new tranfports of a beauteous face! 
Its force on man — the touch— the glowing glance? 
The tempting bofom, and the tender trance I 
In thofe how ftrongly doft thou paint our care,' 
And all the darling weaknefs of the fair; 
What thanks muft beauty give in yielding hour 4 
To warm them from us in the rofy bow'r? 

A fudden flafh of lightning turns my eye, 
To thunder rumbliftg in the fummer Hey! 
Beneath thy hand the flaming meet is fpread^ 
O'er heav'ns wide fade, and wraps it round with re*!;* 
With the broad blaze the kindling lines grow bright, 
And all the glowing page is filPd with light; 
Thro' the rough verfe the thunder hoarfely roars, 
And on red wings the nimble lightening foars: 
Here thy Amelia darts, and chill' d with fears, 
At ev'rjr flafh her eye-lid fwims in tears ; 
What heart but beats for fo divine a form, 
Pale as a lilly finking in a ftorm ? 
What maid fo cold to take a lover's part, 
But pities Celadon with all her heart. 

M z Huw 



U TO MR. THOMPSON, 

How precious gems enrich each fparkling line, * 
Add fun to fun, and from thy fancy mine ! 
Here rocks of diamonds blaze in broken ray, 
And fanguine rubies died a blufhing day; 
Blue mining Sapphires a gay heav'n unfold, 
And Topaz lightens like tranfparent gold ; 
Of ev'ning tinft pale Amethyfts are feen, 
And Em'ralds paint their languid beams with green $ 
While the clear Opal courts the reader's fight, 
And rains a fhow'r of many colour'd light; 
Your fky dipt pencil adds the proper glow, 
Stains each bright ftone, and lets their luftre flow, 
Tempers the colours fhifting from each beam, 
And bids them flafh in one continued ftream. 

So have I feen the florid rain-bow rife, 
In breded colours o'er the wat'ry ikies, 
Where drops of light alternate fall away, 
And fainting gleams in gradual dyes decay ; 
But thrown together the broad arch difplays, 
One tide of glory, one colle&ed blaze ! 

Where may thofe numbers find you now retir'd, 
What lawn or grove is by the mufe admir'd; 
Doft thou in Stowe's delightful gardens ftray,* 
Or in the glooms of Doddington delay ; 
There fweet embower' d fome fav'rite author read, 
Or breathe the breezes of thy native Tweed ; 



On 



* A feat of the Lord Cobbam's. 



ON HIS SEASONS. 85 

On her cool border reft reclin'd awhile, 
Mindful of Forbes, and thy own Argyle? 
O ! thou that only in this garb could pleafe, 
And bring me over to commend thy lays; 
Where rhyme is wanting, but where fancy mines, 
And burfts like ripen' d ore above the mines : 
Enjoy thy genius! glory in thy choice! 
Whofe Roman freedom has Rofcommon's voice. 



ON 



ON POESY, 

OR 

TMJE FIJVE vlMTS. 

AN EPISTLE TO THE 

RT. HON. RICHARD EARL OF SHANNON, 

ON THE ADVANCEMENT OF LITERATURE. 



Druids and bards their once loud harps unftrung, 
And youths that died to be by poets fung. 

Pope's temple of fame, 



Who 



would not write when queens vouchfafe to 
read, * 
Kings vifit bards, and princes praife the dead? 
This ftuck the harp of Orpheus in the iky, 
And mortals rais'd to immortality, 
This dubb'd them fav'rites to a royal fair, 
Who judg'd not by the eye, but by the ear; 
In trifles fpent not her inglorious time, 
But from the ball retir'd to books and rhime ; 

Where 

* Mary, Queen of Scots, Caroline, Queen of England, and 
Chriftiana of Sweden, great patroaeiTes of talents and ff polite 
learning. 



88 ON POESY, OR THE FINE ARTS* 

Where Britain's genius entertain'd her queen, 
And Merlin's image haunts fair Richmond's green:* 
Fired by the praife of Sundon and of kings, 
There Duck will dabble, ev'n Cibber fings. 

t 
But I'm condemn'd to wafte away my hours ; 

Far from the great and all poetic powers, 

Far from all tafle, from wit and breeding far, 

The blood of Inchiquin, thy rank Kildare : 

From Lyttleton, infpirer of parts, 

And Pulteney parent of the orphan arts ; , 

From Duddington, the friend of ev'ry worth, 

And Grenville prompt to hand the virtues forth ; 

From Chafterfield a name that Phcebus loves, 

Beyond each name, that ev'ry page improves, 

Dropp'd on the fartheft ifle of all the weft, 

The punnian end of Europe at the beft, 

Where Boyles but few our rifmg Popes infpire, 

Where but one Mann ftirs up the tuneful fire, 

Where Browne, where Berkley deign fcarce to refide* 

And (hield young merit from the foot of pride, 

Where no encouragement attends the mufe, 

Such as of old imperial patrons ufe, 

When pens unfiatt'ring royaliz'd regard, 

And met a province for their juft reward, f 

Poefy 



♦ Merlin was a Welfh bard, and flourifhed in the 6th century, 
his cave at Richmond was the Queen's fludy. 

f Carbre mufe, an old Hibernian bard who prefented a poem 
to Olioi Ollum, King of Munfter, and was rewarded with the 
barcny of Carbre fo called from him* 



ON POESY, OR THE FINE ARTS. ' 80 

Poefy figh'd me found her labour vain, 
Where is the tribute now and golden chain f* 
Imperial penfion that a Virgil warms, 
Poets expiring in an emp'ror's arms?f 
Alas! they're all with Carolina fled,j; 
With Adrian vanifh'd, with Auguftus dead, 

O Ignorance! thou goddefs brazen bright, 
Profufe of jibes and mallow with delight, 
Eternal laughters in thy prefence reign, 
And fmiling cenfure loads thy empty train, 
Eas'd of her load, ev'n dulnefs grows more light, 
And impudence conceited in thy fight: 
Thou mak'ft the awkward face of folly gay, 
Gives front affurance, modefty difmay, 
Thee, goddefs, thee, the mob adore alone, 
In fortune's tinfel dreit and Briilol (lone; 
While few difcern the riches of the mind, 
Or underftand the jewels of mankind. 

Lives there a race beneath the mortal fides* 
Who facred honours tc the bard denies ; 
Behold Demodicus on high is placed, 
By Greece and with the choice ft viands grac'd: 

N Lightning 

* A gold chain bellowed upon Peter Aretine the fatirift. 

f Francis the Flrft. 

£ Alluding to a medal of the late queen reprefenting her ma* 
5efty watering the arts and fciences which adorn empire with tfya 
motto, " Caroline protecting." 



90 ON POESY, OR THE FINE ART& 

Lightning itfelf the laurel will revere, 
Nor blafts the bay, becaufe its Paeans wear. 

Let learned Gaul in any feience fhew, 
Books more antique than Homer, Hefiod knew* 
Let poetry trace ancient Linus higher, 
Father of fancy and of fenfe the fire; 
Italy Ennius, Gower England quote, 
And ^Ethiopia Liquanus for thought, 

Philofophy itfelf durfl not appear, 
Firft to the world but in the mufes fphere, 
Thus Thates wrote, Parmenides afpir'd, 
And nature in Lucretius is admir'd : 
And thus the fage Pythagoras of old, 
From iron anvil hammer'd verfe of gold ; 
Manilius mines in aftronomic lays, 
And mathematics to a Halley's praife.* 

See hiftory Herodotus's theme, 
Chridens her books by each a mufe's name: 
Divinity herfelf here gives her vote, 
When Paul and Atterbury poets quote ; 
Nor will this client oratory quit, 
In this caufe Tully pleads for baninVd wit : 
"What Cato wanted, drove, but ftrove in vain, 
What Ammon wiflVd* what Lewis fcarce could drain, 

Is 



* Fontenelle writes that Mr. Halley wrote a fine Latin poem 
in praife of Sir Ifacc Newton's Principia. 



ON POESY, Ok THE FINE ARTS. 91 

Is not methinks a frivolous defire, 

Which popes profefs'd and princeffcs admire.* 

Mazerine and Richlieu both indulg'd this rage, 
The greateft ftatefmen of their fev'nd age. 
And thought it policy to aid thofe arts, 
Which made their mailers rule a nation's heart?. 

By this fweet art Arion gain'd his ftore, 
And charm'd mute fi(h to liften to his lore: 
A dolphin drawn by his harmonious hand, 
Receiv'd him on his back and bore to land, 
He on his crouching crefl fits all at eafe, 
And with his harp calms th' infulting leas. 
Thus the divine mufician faiPd alon£, 
And paid his paffag? with a fmoother fcng. 

Let mufic tell how Orpheus drew wild beads, 
While Thrace the bard tore, emblem of bad taftet, 
Then ev'n rude Rhodope fweet echoes heard, 
And caught the voice of the expiring bard, 
Yet tho' the Thracians puli'd him limb from limb, 
To fee him fountains rofe above their brim, 
The rivers ran and left their channels dry, 
The rocks feemed fmitten with his harmony, 
Trees gathered round him, join'd the gazing crowd, 
And as he paiTed, the woods refpeclful bow'd, 

N 2 Ev'n 

* The princefs royal of Poland wrote a Latin poem on the con- 
verfion of St. Augufline, and was admitted a member of the aca- 
demy at Rome. 



n ON POESY, OR THi! FINE ARTS. 

Ev'n hell was pleas'd- all but the beaft call'd man, 

Brutes may be tam'd but blockheads never can. 

Edward and Alfred pay'd refpeft to bards, 
Old Spencer, queen Elizabeth rewards; 
Henry the eighth indulg'd the tuneful quire, 
And eVen that age a Skelton could admire; 
Chaucer had patrons, yea the pfalmift Brady, 
Protected was, and cherifh'd by queen Mary. 
The hero William, and the martyr Charles, 
One knighted Blackmore, th' other penfioned Quarles.. 
Garth by king George, and Eufeden by queen Ann, 
One dubb'd a knight, one led the laurel van. 
Ev'n Milton's daughter liv'd on Milton's lays, 
And Steel a knighthood gain'd by arts like thefe. 

Polnitz behold .a Pruffia's king admire, 
And Voltaire famous for Apollo's lyre ; 
Loaded with med.ds, lo! returns the bard, 
And royal gifts a D'Argen's pains reward;* 
Thefo lift this monarch to imperial fway, 
Of princes prime, whom arms and arts obey. 

Oxiord on wit confers a grand degree, 
And every college but cool Trinity. 
Sorbonne her Rolin boafts, and Oxford Spence, 
Cambridge her Trap for belles-lettres and fenfe: 

But 



* Author of the JewHh letters, and chamberlain to the king 
of Pruffia, a butterfly in learning, and much left a fcholar than 



ON POESY, OR THE FINE ARTS. 93 

But fince fchools fell, no vermin loft Its breath, 
No rat or knave, dread fatire rhimes to death;* 
Difeafe, misfortune, are not charm'd away, 
Nor ficknefs flies before th' enchanting lay. 

Poets in Ireland now are rarely priz'd, 
As learned men in Turkey are defpis'd; 
Dulnefs the beaten road, the general rule, 
Which if you quit, they point you out a fool, 
Nor is it ftrange, where folly rules the roaft, 
Wit mould be little priz'd and nonfenfe moil. 

Yet genius ev'n in Ireland is enhanc'd, 
Clancy is penfion'd, Carthy is advanc'd ; 
Dunkin, the king of fchoolm afters is grown, 
And Francis among ftrangers meets renown; 
Then let it not be faid, prophets at home, 
Are not unhonour'd but in Munfter's dome. 

The man that hath no raufic in his foul, 
Why rattle dice or call a vole, 
Nor is not mov'd with concord of fweet founds, 
This man is fit not for a pack of hounds, 
He's fit for treafons, ftratagems and fppils, 
For mid-day quarrels, and for mid- night broils ; 
The motions of his mind are full of fpite, 

He's dull as Erebus and dark as night ; 

Let 



* Sir Philip Sidney relates farprifmg inilances of the power of 
ancient poefy in Ireland, fuch as expelling rats, or rhyming peo- 
ple to death, and confeffes that though learning was then verybare 
in the kingdom, yet the poe;s wsre helsin great veneration. 



94 ON FOESt, OR THE FINE ART& 

Let no fuch man be trufted, Shakfpeare faith, 
For yew-like, lie fheds round him baneful death $ 
Whereas whoever a&s what's worthy praife, 
Admires the mufes and adorns their lays. 

Wits by pert pedants only are defpis'd, 
As your tame birds by thofe unciviliz'd; 
Like common fenfe could genius be acquired, 
Thy parts, O Stanhope* would be lefs admir'd! 
Great wits like comets do not oft appear, 
And their price rifes from their being rare; 
But fools appear in multitudes and throngs, 
And like the pendulums of clocks their tongues. 
Tho' would you hear what you may chance to like, 
One mud wait the hour before they ftrike : 
Thofe human infects which in buz alarm, 
And round the wit, as round the taper fwarm, 
Tho' in his face they fly, refolv'd to wound, 
Yet by the blow are tumbl'd to the ground, 
Thofe fons of twilight hate the light of morn, 
Sightlefs they fly, and to their dung return, 
Taken for bees by undifcerning eyes, 
The wifer find them beetles and defpife. 

Poor is an epithet to poets given, 
Yet David was a bard and lov'd by heav'n, 
Where's the foundation? for .pad times explore ^ 
You'll furely find the leffer number poor; 
Great Maro, Flaccus, Lucan, Ovid rich, 
And tho' untitl'd, of no vulgar pilch ; 



OjNr POESY, OR THE FINE ARTS, U 

Nay our own times examples may afford 

Of genius meeting in a duke or lord ! 

Fam'd Dorfet, Surrey, Halifax were earls, 

And Orrery and Chefterfield are pearls : 

Hear Rochefter, Rofcommon, Landfdown fing, 

Bright Buckingham and Falkland touch the firing, 

Soft Sedley, Denham, Butler, Steel were knights, 

And Addifon tho' fecretary writes! 

His excellency Prior tun'd the lyre, 

And Congreve tho' commiflioner had fire; 

Lo ! Pope and Swift, the wonder of our days, 

Were far from poor and yet they dealt in bays, 

Williams ambaflador to Berlin font, 

A royal authors ear to compliment. 

See Wycherly by Cleveland's grace adcnir'c s 
By Charles courted, Drogheda deflred; 
See Addifon to Warwick's arms confin'd, 
Charm'd by his head and harmony of mind; 
Mallet and Glover, Marlbro's choice approv'd, 
With her laft breath whofe merit Montrofe lov'd, 
To be approv'd by wit and fenfe is more, 
Than if the lords and commons thank'd you o'er and o'er. 

Behold great Bourbon Bolingbroke commands, 
To take the royal fignet from his hands; 
Lo! Savoy's watch, and Eugene's box of gold, 
Pope and Centlivre as a premium hold. 
See Boyle's hand honour'd by a Sheffield's ring, 
The mufe's gift by daughter of a king; 

Churchill'* 



SO ON POESY, OR THE FINE ARTS. 

Churchill's beft jewel Chefterneld adorns, 
It well becomes him who all flatt'ry fcorns ; 
Yet tho' none merit or good fenfe regard, 
Defert like virtue is its own reward, 
And tho' but few to worth their tribute bring, 
The mind's complacence -is a diamond ring; 
As the rich brilliants the fair fingers grace, 
So fortune fparkles upon wifdom's face, 
Whereas rich gems expofe the dunce they deck, 
Like a gold chain about a lord-mayors neck, 

Alas ! 'tis wit itfelf has given the flur, 
And bards too often ad the cabbin-cur; 
Thus wits to coxcombs kill new weapons fend, 
Who beat us with the very fticks we lend, 
Strange each profeflion to itfelf adheres, 

Tools herd together, foplings walk in pairs, 

But wits ftill flraggling fcatter at this rate, 

By congregated fools are eafy beat; 

Some have of wit, and fome of wealth have ftore, 

But envied by the ideot and the poor, 

'Twixt wit and folly there's eternal war, 

As heat and cold caufe thunder in the air. 

Behold the pride of Languedoc (Touloufe) 
Vain of its wit, which ev'n the women ufe, 
Bred in French forms each belle's a fonnetteer, 
And ev'ry nymph apes Mazerine andDacier, 
Ballad and fong, the produd of the foil, 
And proud Verfailles is ev'n to them a foil. 

Yet 



ON POESY, OR THE FINE ARTS. 

Yet ev'n here Cambray hathJiis Meaux, 
And Perrault pafquinades the great Boileau ; 
A Polnitz envies Voltaire's happy vein, 
Tho* he commends a Corneille or Racine. 

Envy's the common confequence of praife, 
And calumny ftill grows upon the bays, 
So Pope, Gay, Dryden, Horace, Virgil found, 
Who bids the bard have brows with ivy bound ; 
Left the mufe fall on Milton's evil tongues, 
Thus Homer Zoilus, Ovid Cinna wrongs. 
Then why mould I who claim not half their due,, 
Complain becaufe I have my Codrus too? 
Rail on Demetriu6, Tigellius bite, 
Plotius and Varus read what'er I write. 
Shall flea Pantilius, bug Hermogenes, 
Make me uneafy, or difturb my peace ? 
No, my Maecenas, you my lines commend, 
And while you like my labours have an end* 



THE 



THE FAREWELL, 



TO A LADY ON HER LEAVING IRELAND. 



i-VlAY guardian angels on thy journey wait. 
And love protect thee from all hoftile hate, 
*Till thofe fond eyes again behold thy charms, 
And joy reftore thee to Adonis' arms. 

For thee fhall Flora paint the rural bow'r^ 
Blufh in the rofe and fmile in ev'ry flow'r, 
For thee the rivers run, the woodbines creep, 
The Naiades warble and the waters weep, 
The laughing meadowy and loquacious rills, 
The vocal vallies and the anfw'ring hills ; 
Thy praife the woods, the groves, the rocks ihall rings 
The blackbirds whittle and, the trufhes fing ; 
With thee fhall Zephyr figh along the dale* 
Sob in the breeze or murmur in the gale; 
At thy hard hap fhall mournful Eccho tell. 
In the lone grot or folitary cell ; 
There fhall the defer! nymph thy ftepa attend. 
Worn out with grief, the lover's only friend; 
Loft in the filent walk or folemn fliade, 
The wretched meet the melancholy maid, 

O 2 Hear 



106 THE FAREWELL, 

Hear her wild voice another's woes bemoan, 
And pity forrows once fo like her own. 

In diftant fcenes may abfent thoughts intrude, 
Haunt thy retreat or footh thy folitude, 
In ev*ry fhadow let my image play, 
And bring to mind fome dear departed day ; 
When fweet content becalm'd the happy hours, 
And all the grove and all the day was ours. 
Then fpring was welcome and the vernal plain, 
And once the golden age returned again. 
But now the ikies are drefs'd no more in blue, 
And fallen ev'ning wears a wintry hue ; 
Retirement takes a fedentary look, 
And lamentation tunes the purling brook. 

In fome cool arbour on the velvet ground, 
Where violets blow and jafmine breathes around 3 
'Till fun-fet fit or lie long nights awake, 
Whife the fhrill rails in rural concert creak ; 
Then figh to think of fweeter ferenades , 
And curfe the rnufic ,of thofe hateful fhades* 

Here health refides upon the mountain brow, 
And earth prefents her bofom to the plough, 
That gilds with harveft the brown field unfhorn, 
And fpreads the valHes with a tide of corn : 
Her yellow locks fee Ceres wide unfold, 
Tinge the green ear and {hake the founding gold ; 
Beneath, blefl: tenant of the bearded grove, 
The quail refponfive wooes his harmlefs love, 

Whofe 



THE FAREWELL, 101 

Whofe tender call diredS his ev'ning ways,. 
And leads her lover thro 5 the tangl'd maze. 
Ah thus may we in tranfport meet at laft, 
Doubt being dead, and ev'ry danger paft. 
May no deceiver turn thy feet afide, 
Or lead thy lover from his dellin'd bride. 
In the world's wildernefs thy friendly voice, 
Still ftrike my ear and bid young hope rejoice^ 
A little longer let that m-ufic- live, 
And that fhall Venus to Adonis give. 



TO 



TO .1 ZJLBY, 

WITH MRS. ROWE'S LETTERS FROM 

THE 

DEAD TO THE LIVING, 

STILED 

FRIENDSHIP IN DEAtH. 



IHESfe curious works their happy author tell* 
How far your fex can if they pleafe excel ; 
In thofe foft thoughts her fofteft foul explore, 
And read what woman never writ before ! 
Profpe&s fo novel will not fail to charm, 
Where florid profe in glowing numbers warm ; 
Where godlike friendfhip wears a fadelefs bloomy 
Lives after death and triumphs o'er the tomb. 

Where cou'd me find fo ravifliing a theme ? 
She faw it fure in fome delightful dream 5 
When heav'nly mufic lull'd her pow'rs to reft* 
And only love lay waking in her breaft ; 
When virtue's felf defcended from the fky, 
To paint Elyfium on her clofmg eye, 
To prompt with vilions the romantic maid, 
On beds of lilies languifhjngly laid. 

From 



1S4 TO A LADY. 

From hence thefe pages boafl her wondrous wit, 
Where under art dull mortals eafy fit : 
Let the gay libertine iperufe them thro* 
He'll find both profit and amufement too ; 
The man of fenfe mail doat up6n their deeds, 
And the foft maid grow fofter as fhe reads ; 
A &gh and tear at ev'ry letter rife, 
Steal from her heart and tremble in her eyes. 

But you my fair, whofe foul is tun'd to love, 
Whofe tafte and judgment all the nine approve; 
Receive a mufe of the fublimer fort, 
Sing her, the Sappho of Brittannia's coaft: 
In fome dull humour, after evening tea, 
Your fpleen and vapours file may chafe away; 
Difpel the clouds that o'er good nature low'r, 
And fo improve a folitary hdur. 
When other nymphs are dying with the clime, 
And at a lofs to murder idle time. 

In gardens now beneath the gloomy grove, 
Oft fhall thou mufe and range this heav'n of love ; 
Where forms departed fport in fields of air, 
And purer beauties bloom for ever fair; > 
Thefe happy meadows want no genial fhow*rs, 
But gems unbidden blow inftead of flow'rs ; 
For violet beds young amethyfts are feen,, 
And living em'ralds fhed immortal green! 
On liquid chryital fvvans fail fmoothly by, 

For ever finging- and yet never die, 

Thefe 



TO A LADY. 105 

Thefe are the manfions deftin'd for the bit-It, 
"Where faithful lovers from their labours reft ; 
Each dove-like pair for confiancy renown'd, 
With fragrant myrtle and with rofes crown'd ; 
Shall here enjoy the ever youthful hours, 
In golden groves and amaranthine bow'rs. 

There too, in time, perhaps thy fecial fhape, 
May meet with mine and wander o'er the mead ; 
Together walk, together ages wafte, 
And talk of nothing but amufements pall: 
No rival there — —not even death to fear, 
But love be all the language we (ball hear; 
Small change then needs that alabafter brow, 
You want but wings to be an angel now. 



TO 



TO MR* PARKER, 



SEA PIECE OF HIS PAINTING, 



BY THE 



Rev, Mr. J. Delacoun 



uO ftrikes the windows that beguiles the eye, 

The mimic flipper, or diffembl'd fly y 

So veils Timanthes Agamemnon's air, 

And Ariftides paints a mother's care$ 

So look'd the fheet Paraflus' drap'ry wove 5 

Apelles' Venus or Euphranor's Jove. 

Thus was the mare's mouth froth 5 4 
To whom beafts neigh' d, # 

Portogeceffe's dog, Mealces' fteed; 
So Lorreign Iandfcapes, Vandervelde fights, feign'd, 
Zeuxis' limn'd fruits and flow'rs, a Baptift ftain'd $ 
So flame reflected, as the boy coals blew, 
Phalerion, Scylla, Nile a Coypel drew ; 
So Titian colour'd, Raphael fketch'd his plan, 
Man may mock birds, but you deceive a man., 

? * 'Tin 



103 TO MR. PARKER. 

'{Tis hard to fay which moil I muil admire,. 
In this jail piece, thy judgment or thy fire ; 
So warm with life the ftrongeft figures rife, 
The rough fea roars, and fwells to meet my eyes ! 
The vocal paint, work'd up in louder ftorms, 
Speaks' out in thunder and the deep deforms. 
Clouds roll'd on clouds, in darker fhades increafe* 
The wild waves foam and whiten all the piece* 
The fcatter'd light'ningj mixes with the main, 
And dolphins bound along the moving plain : 
The ready pencil here a fhip commands* 
To ftrike a rock, or bulge againft the fandsj 
With pity we furvey its ihatter'd fide, 
While planks and men lie mingP'd in the tide $ 
Aloft the crew-curd Petterel is borne, 
With wet-wing -d Notus, raining from his urn* 
Or mould old Ocean toil himfelf to reft, 
Thy pi&urd Halcyons brood upon his breaft. 
Soft flide the waves, the furge is fmoother feen a 
And from thy pencil flows a wat'ry green ; 
Or would we view the treafures of the deep, 
Where beds of oyfters, well difTembl'd, fleep ; 
Here heaps of ambergreafe lie foil'd with weeds* 
And thro' the ooze the branching coral bleeds. 
Dark on the rocks the fea-wreck nods above, 
And in the floating canvas feems to move. 

Thefe are the charms that wait upon thy hand! 

Here nature works, and here her graces ftand! 

To ftrike the foul, O Parker, be thy part, 

And let thy touches '"link into the heart! 

Painting 



TO MR. PARKER, 309 

Painting and poetry in thee unite, 
And on each other caft a friendly light* 
Fond to reflect the beauties of a mind, 
Where filter-arts are in perfection join'd. 

Still in thy curious labours let me fhare, 
New-mix the colours, and the tints prepare | 
Or from the fullied pencil wipe the ftain, 
Or ftretch the canvas for the future fcene; 
There fhall thy fancy with thy finger move, 
And ev'ry ftroke a Chilcot*s leg improve. 
There let me watch with thee each dawning line. 
And from the progrefs guefs the foft defign : 
Whether the drop, unpolifhM as it lies, 
May form an angel's, or a Conran's eyes, 
Or if that lake muft Lyfaght's lips adorn, 
Or rife in blufhes to defcribe the morn. 

Thefe are amufements innocent and bright, 
Refults of genius, and a tafte polite ; 
Thefe meet in thee, and mingle in thy mind, 
And fpeak a manner fininVd and renVd; 
Hence the big thoughts that in thy fancy rojl! 
Hence all thofe beauties, tranfcripts of thy foul ! 
Where, if thy colours glow in Gunning's cheeks 3 * 
It is thy foul, and not thy pencil fpeaks. 
Thefe want not words to praife his powerful hand, 
Who can the pafiions like the winds command. 

Yet 

* Lady Coventry. 



210 TO MR. PARKER. 

Yet few, how few ! when all our pains are paft, 
Are born with ears and eyes to judge at laft! 
How few can tafle the mufe's art, or thine ! 
How few can tafte thy harmony, or mine! 
Ere fhort-liv'd artifls fee their glory rife, 
Their colours vanifh and their mufic dies ; 
J Such is the poet's, fuch the painter's fate, 
Too foon 'tis envi'd, and efteem'd too late. 



Ireland. 



TO, 



TO 



MIL WEAVER, 

PORTRAIT PAINTER PROM BATH, 

ON HIS 

EXQUISITE MADONA AND OTHER PICTURES, 



JL HIS penfive pofture fee, fpe&ators call 
To view devotion fervent, warm to all, 
A Titian's manner, join'd to Lely's art, 
MarattPs ftyle, with hand upon her heart ; 
There Contemplation fpeaks in thought profound, 
With flaxen hair, her eye upon the ground, 
Which feems to fay in meditation mute, 
Praxiteles with Weaver can't difpute ! 
Here true refemblance ftrikes in ev'ry line> 
Like Zeuxis' grapes, on which the birds would dine- 
Where modefty is painted in the face, 
A matron's meeknefs, and religion's grace ; 
Thefe lips difcourfe, as elegance might fay, 
And ah how foft, how rubicund 1;hey pray ! 
The grot of glory they might image well, 
Or humble fybil, in fome facred cell. 

Lorrain's 



112 



TO MR. WEAVER. 



Lorrain's warm fun upon thy landfcape mines, 
A Rubens' colours, with Vandyke's defigns; 
While Raphael's women with a Guido's air, 
Wainfcot thy room, and thro' thy windows ftare; 
Where the blood feems to circulate moll high, 
Blum in each cheek and fparkle in each eye : 
No wonder that a Weaver thofe mould (hade, 
When Love a Black-Smith an Apelles made. 



IN 



IN LAUDEM 



JETHIOPISSiE. 



jlLST mihi (fiqua mihi eft) fine fuco, fraude, vet arte, 

Nefcia mutari forma, fuique tenax: 

Unguentis utor nullis, medicamme nullo, 

"Quid juvet, ignore, regia mellis aquaj 

Nee maculis ftellata, hie interfpergor, et illic, 

Non equidem nigra nigrior effe velim ; 

iiOtio fola mihi eft de pura et fimplice lympha, 

Et vereor quam fit vanus et ifte labor. 

At nivei mihi funt, pceti fine pulvere dentes, 

Quale nee Indorum purius albet ebur; 

Sideribus limiles fulgere videtis ocellos, 

Angliacam poffint qui decorare nurum. 

Mollitiem talpse fuperant mea labra, quis, ecquis 

Liibabit quam funt ofcula mollicula ? 

Sin minus oble&em tot flammas inter et ignes, 
(Ufque adeo eft noftrae lux inimica cuti) 
Si placet extingui tantum mandate lucernas, 
Protenusin tenebris altera Thais, ero. 



Q THU3 



THUS TRANSLATED FROM TUB FOREGOING. 



IN PRAISE OF A NEGRESS. 



vV HAT fhape I have, that form is all my own, 
To art a ftranger, and to modes unknown; 
To paint or patches, perfum'd fraud no friend, 
Nor know what ftciys or honey-water mendi 
No fpotted moons deform my jetty face, 
I would be blacker* than that fpeckl'd race! 
My fimple lotion is the purer rain, 
And e'en that wafii is labour took in vain, 
But my pearl teeth, without tobacco's aid, 
On fnow or Tndian iv'ry cafl: a made ! 
My eyes eclipfe the ftara in all their flame, 
Such as may not e'en Albion's daughters fhame* 
My fofter fkin with the mole's velvet vies, 
Ah! who will on thofe altars facrifice? 
But if I pleafe lefs id the fultry day, 
My colour with the candles dies away; 
Since to our hue the light is deem'd a foe, 
.Night will a Thais in my charms bellow. 



VERSES ON A 



JLAB¥ 3 g HAID, 



jl I N E as her taper fingers flow my drains, 
Soft as her hand, and mining as her veins,, 
Turn'd as her wrift the lines, and fmooth as fiik, 
Feel like her palm, where rofes fwim in milk ; 
Thefe o'er my verfe a warmer fhadow ihed, 
And tip her fingers with a painted red ; 
Thro' the blue veins in riper moifture Bow, 
And feem to melt with heat the neighb'ring fnow; 
The neighb'ring fnow diffolv'd in rofes blends, 
And with carnation decks her fingers ends : 
Between the leaves the flakes of fnow look bright, 
And daify-like are dam'd with red and white; 
* Think with what lufire on her lap it lay, 
And o'er her apron drew the milky way ; 
Coarfe iook'd the cambrick to a hand fo fine, 
And {hades of lawn are net-work to her fkin, 
On her fair fingers brilliant diamonds glow, 
And burn like JEtna, between hills of fnow. 



FINIS. 



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